Home
by Nightheart
Summary: You're a sweetheart vash," Said Meryl. "And your mama raised you right, but shut up and kiss me." Lime warning.
1. Maybe Angels

Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun, nor do I own any of its characters or the world in which it is based. Those are copyright to their respective owners/creators and i make no profit off this fic.

Her fingers danced unhappily over the keys to her type-writer as she tallied out the damages and payments owed from the last debacle involving her assignment; one Vash the Stampede, the legendary Humanoid Typhoon, mans first and only Act of God. There were a variety of other colorful nicknames for him but none of them came close to what he was really like. Most of the time she was inclined to be charitable towards him seeing as she had developed certain unpredictable feelings for the goofy gunman, however today was not one of those times.

"I have the last of the claims here ma'am," Milly said helpfully, unloading a stack of triplicates five inches thick beside the piles she had just sorted through. Meryl's shoulders slumped and she rubbed a temple, sighing. Those had taken her all night to go through.

"Thank-you Milly," Meryl said tiredly, a vague feeling of annoyance spiking up at the thought of the cause for all of this hard work and sleep loss. Vash was going to pay for this.

"I'm home!" called the Source of all Chaos from the front door of the two-bedroom they were renting.

"Hello Mister Vash!" Milly called cheerfully while Meryl continued typing at her report.

._..make the damages payable by return of post to Brumwelt, Gurgusson and Splelch to the total of..._

She frowned for a moment and looked back at the current claim she was filing in. Darn, she'd misspelled the last name. Meryl reached off to one side for her white-out (the white-out button on her type-writer was no longer in working order since Vash had taken it upon himself to play around with it one evening and had spilled beer down the side of her baby) only to find that her white-out had been left open by _somebody_ and was all dried out. Meryl gritted her teeth in annoyance.

Take deep cleansing breaths, she advised herself. Reality was the leading cause of stress. Scratch that, _Vash_ led the pack with reality coming in a close second.

"Hey look, the mail's here!" Milly said reaching for the stack of envelopes currently being held by Knives, Meryl's other headache.

He had the most overbearing attitude and seemed to take especial delight in his brother's accident prone destruction sprees (in fact had been the likely cause of the most recent one as well as a few others she could name). Meryl was no saint and certainly didn't have the patience of one; finding her workload doubled and her compensation cut was bad enough but the man was an insufferable pain. Proud, arrogant and a finicky eater to boot. He seemed to derive a certain sort of amusement by baiting his brother; Vash was learning his way around his brother's verbal traps and so he'd begun picking on Milly and Meryl as well. He was like the schoolyard bully only with aristocratic snobbery.

"My big, big sister wrote!" Milly said happily. "And here's one from my cousin Jake, and my little-big sister, and my little brother, ooh ohh! My nephew wrote me!"

Knives rolled his eyes while Meryl tried to figure out an alternate source of whiteout. No help for it.

"Vash," she called out into the hall. "I know you just got back, but could you run to the store and buy me another bottle of white-out? Mine is dried out."

"Hey look Meryl!" Milly said excitedly holding an envelope aloft in the air and waving it excitedly. "Here's one for you!"

Meryl suddenly felt her stomach cramp up in nervousness at the sight of an envelope of cream-laid vellum with gold-flecked red wax sealing it.

"I've never seen you receive mail before," Milly remarked, trying (and failing utterly) to not look too curious.

"Is it from work?" Meryl asked hopefully. Silently adding to herself 'please let it be from work!'

"No, the return stamp says Trevino Vineyards," Milly said. Meryl's stomach plummeted. Great, just what she needed. Still business before pleasure and all of that (meaning that she was going to put it off as long as she could).

"Put it on my desk please Milly," Meryl replied. "I'll get to it when I'm done with work."

"Don't you want to open it?" Milly asked curiously. "It looks important. Maybe you've won something really yummy."

"Don't be silly, they're never serious until the envelope is pink anyway," Meryl said continuing her typing until Vash could go to the store and bring back her white-out. However, instead of walking right back out the door Vash seemed to have picked up some of Milly's curiosity and was examining the envelope Milly had set down, holding it up to the light to see if he could read to contents.

"I beg your pardon," Meryl said, glaring at him for his presumption. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Do you know someone there?" he asked, apparently not willing to make an attempt at concealing his nosiness.

"Could you please go and get me some white-out?" she growled, annoyance lacing her tone. If he had any sense at all, he'd be aware of the fact that she had approximately one nerve left and he was beginning to grate on it.

"My brother is not your errand boy, lowly one," Knives interjected looking down his aristocratic nose at her.

She muttered something inaudible and probably not very complimentary under her breath, to which Knives replied

"Anatomically improbable, but you're welcome to try I suppose. It might be amusing to watch you dislocate that many bones in the attempt."

She took another deep cleansing breath. Vash, seeing that she'd been pushed just about as far as she was going to go, set the letter back down and announced he was going down to the general store and did she want anything?

"A rope to hang you with," she gritted.

Vash blinked, looking injured. Meryl softened a bit, apologized, and politely requested white-out once again. She chose to ignore the long, measuring look Milly and Vash treated her to.

"She seems a bit out of sorts," Vash said in an undertone to Milly. "Is it that time of the month?"

Deep cleansing breaths, Meryl reminded herself. I must not kill my assignment. 

Milly massaged her own hand, cramped and sore from finishing her hand-written "Milly Monthly" for the better part of the evening.

The two brothers were facing one another across a table with a chessboard on it, squabbling just as siblings were supposed to; unfortunately the subject matter of their on-going squabble left much to be desired. Whether or not the human species should in fact be terminated was, in Milly's opinion, a bit of a no-brainer. There really was no story quite like them; two brothers forced by a dichotomy in thier basic philosophies to an ongoing struggle that might just range until the last of the stars grew cold in their orbits. It seemed such a sad thing.

Milly was willing to believe in Vash's belief of the basic goodness of Knive's character; to his brother Knives wasn't actually a bad person despite all that he had done to other people over the years, but was merely flawed in his reasoning. she personally approved of the assessment and was willing to keep giving Knives the benefit of the doubt even when he was deliberately insulting, cocky, overbearing, and downright rude.

It had been a long time since he'd been among normal people (those Gung-Ho strange persons didn't count) so he had probably lost the knack for convivial conversation. Milly had made it her personal quest to get a genuine smile out of him if it was the last thing she ever did. Considering his usual temperament however, the thought had crossed her mind a time or two that it might very well be.

The tap-tap-tapping of keys brought her mind about to her partner. Vash had been home for the good part of a month, granted most of the time had been spent with his brother, but she'd had plenty of time with him to go nuts on him and still nothing. Milly had never regretted that last evening that she had spent with her own...

She resolutely turned her mind away from it. Despite her assurances to the contrary, it still hurt. She cold get through the days just fine; helping others was where she had always found her greatest strength, but she knew that if she thought about it for too long at one time she;d start to cry and would never be able to stop. Better to dwell on her partners problems than to start wallowing in self-pity. Her big sister had always said that the difference between a sand-mire and self-pity was that one swallowed the body and the other swallowed the heart.

Milly was nearly eaten alive with curiosity about that letter Meryl had gotten earlier today; Meryl had never gotten a letter that wasn't from Bernardelli's before. Was it from a friend or a relative perhaps? Milly couldn't tell; in fact there was a lot she didn't know about her sempai despite the fact that the older woman was her best friend. She never talked about her family, and if she'd had boyfriends previous to Milly joining the team three years ago Milly had never heard of any of them. Meryl seemed to have absolutely nothing to her life except for her job, but Milly knew that that couldn't be so; Meryl had someone she wrote to on occasion but she never went into the details about who.

Meryl was one of those enclosed individuals; people who liked to keep things to themselves, especially when it concerned their hearts. Milly had been happy and honored that Meryl had actually chosen to admit her feelings for mister Vash out loud to her; that showed a great deal of trust. Her senior was what some would call a perfectionist; she liked to have things "just so"; the kind of person who would spend an entire afternoon untangling a rope on the floor just because it was there and interfered with her sense of order in the universe.

Milly often thought that Meryl would be a lot more easy going if she didn't insist of being so formally attired from the moment she arose to the time she changed for bed. She didn't even take off her cloak inside the house.

Not that she isn't elegant, Milly thought. But does she always have to be so _perfect_? 

Milly had never seen Meryl look anything less that perfectly groomed. She wore white in a desert where there was dust everywhere and yet somehow the dun color of the sands never clung to her clothes like they always seemed to do to Milly's. It was as if even the dust particles wouldn't dare to mar her perfect image.

Of course, all of that's probably just another way of keeping her guard up. 

It was a little sad that she seemed to have such a hard time letting people in; granted she could talk your ear off about work but when it came to things like what she was feeling or if there was something wrong... it was like pulling teeth.

"...and it's called a knight Vash, not a horsey-piece. You can't move it in a diagonal line, it only moves in an L-shape," Knives was saying with exaggerated patience.

"I know that," Vash replied. "It was just a joke. My real move is this... check."

"This is not check," Knives said.

"Yes it is, I can take your king," Vash protested.

"But my bishop can kill yours before you can take mine..." Knives replied. "I win."

"Aww man, I can't believe I didn't see that," Vash whined. Knives looked smug when Milly looked over.

The tapping stopped. Milly looked over curiously. Meryl had stopped her typing, pushed aside her paperwork, and was now gazing down at the envelope she'd received. She did not look pleased to receive mail and Milly couldn't understand why; she loved getting mail herself. Milly liked nothing better than to hear about all of the latest happenings among her family.

"I guess there's no point in putting it off," Meryl grumbled under her breath, eying the note with antipathy. She slit open the top with a letter opener and pulled out a large white placard with gold embossed lettering. Her frown deepened to a true scowl, the kind that usually marred her face when Vash had done something...noteworthy.

She flipped open the top and scanned the insides. For a moment her face was completely blank then it flushed, segueing slowly into anger that progressed quickly to rage and seemed to stick there. For a moment her mouth worked soundlessly. Her hands shook, clenching and unclenching in wrath.

"What's wrong Meryl?" Milly asked concernedly.

"Wrong?" Meryl said, trying to cover her obvious distress with a false laugh. "Nothing! Ha hahahahaha! What could possibly be wrong?"

"Did you get bad news?" Milly pursued.

"No," Meryl declaimed. "No it's not bad news at all... In fact it's very good news."

"You don't look very happy about it," Vash noted from where he and his brother were putting away the chess pieces. Meryl glared at him with more than her usual heat; she was probably still mad at him for being the cause of all of the paperwork she was still filling out.

"Here, _you_ read," Meryl practically growled, shoving the placard at Milly. The younger insurance girl opened up the top and smoothed out the crumples from where Meryl's hands had clenched around it.

"Trevino Vineyards is proud to announce the wedding of Dylan Mori-Korin and Mellisandra DeGhent-Trevino on the date of blah blah blah..." Milly said skimming over the rest of the wedding announcement.

"Why Meryl!" Milly said, cheefully. "You've been invited to a wedding. Is Mellisandra your sister, or a cousin?"

"I'm sending my regrets," she replied flatly. "I have work to do."

"Sempai, I'm sure the boss will be happy to give you time off to attend, you haven't taken a break in the entire time I've known you and you certainly have leave time stored up," Milly replied, not a bit fooled by what was obviously an excuse. Meryl was like that, she liked to hide behind Duty to avoid this-and-that if it made her uncomfortable.

"I said I'm not going," Meryl snapped, plopping back down to her desk and turning back to her paperwork scowl still firmly in place. The staccato tapping of the keys against the paper sounded much louder and even more quick than usual. Milly wasn't about to let her best friend off the hook so easily, Meryl only got really angry like this when she was covering up being hurt.

"Alright Meryl," Milly said casually. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"That's right," Meryl said, nodding firmly as she turned back to her work.

"I mean it's only a wedding," Milly continued, her tone completely blase, but with every intent of striking a nerve when she was off guard.

"Yes," Meryl agreed, typing away.

"It's not like it's for family or anything," Milly said. there was a sudden jarring note, out of the corner of her eye Milly saw Meryl give a start as if stung.

"And it's not as if you have a duty to attend," Milly kept on, knowing very well that her partner valued propriety highly.

"Or might upset some of the other guests if you were absent," Milly added.

"Grrrr," Meryl grumbled, frowning. But she also looked guilty too. After a long moment, Meryl sighed.

"I don't really want to go," she grumbled. "It's not just that I hate weddings either. It's an awkward position for me."

"Awkward?" Milly questioned. "But they're your family Meryl!"

"Exactly!" she hissed. Milly just looked at her patiently. After a few minutes of Meryl staring back with cool-eyes she at last gave in and explained.

"Milly, you're really close with your family," she started. "All your letters home have that old-fashioned close-knit letters from home feeling to them. My family isn't like that, especially with me. That one particular sister in the note is one I've never gotten on with, I used to day-dream about dropping her off a cliff."

"But you still love her," Milly replied, not fooled.

"I suppose I have to," Meryl said and added. "I just don't like her is all."

"I'm sure it'll work out fine sempai," Milly soothed. "Just put in an appearance, wish them well, smile for the camera and then come back here. That's all you really have to do."

"You don't get it," Meryl said, getting up and for the first time Milly had ever seen her, Meryl started pacing. Not only was she pacing, she was clearly very nervous. A nervous Meryl? Was the world going to end? In the entire time Milly had known Meryl she'd always been calm, controlled and capable, unflappable in even the worst desert storm and fearless in the most trying of circumstances. She never got nervous, she just got more determined. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and went after it, she had her act together.

But we're dealing with family, and that changes anything, even confident Meryl has her own insecurities, I'm sure, Milly reminded herself.

"Because it isn't just my sister, it's the whole tribe of them," Meryl went on, still pacing. "It's my stepmother and aunties wondering why I'm twenty-five and still unmarried. It's my step-sisters wondering just what I'm doing with a real job out in the frontier instead of finding a husband and settling down to have kids. It's my daddy demanding that I give up this career nonsense of mine and start acting like a properly bred daughter. And then there's the rest of them, the Peerage, always gossiping and talking about me and my unwomanly penchant for making something of myself besides just being a wife and mother. You know that they actually hold me up as an example to their daughters about how a girl can go wrong in her life? And if they saw me come home with my hair cut off and dressed like this..." She gestured downward to her usual elegant white cape, skirt hose and boots that covered her from neck to toe.

"Father would have a cat!" she finished.

"But Meryl," Milly said in confusion. "That's what you always wear."

Meryl quickly fished into the bottom of her bag and pulled out a photo in a silver frame.

"_That's_ what I'm _supposed_ to look like," she replied pointing emphatically to a girl down in front.

It was obviously a picture taken some years ago, Meryl couldn't have been more than fifteen. It was one of those formal pictures too, no-one was smiling. The men were all dressed up in their best suits, shirts pressed, brass buttons polished, silk ties with diamond pins in them and their shoes shined. The women wore elegant dresses with corsets, petticoats and lace. The family was obviously Money, with a capital M (which might explain a few things). The younger Meryl had long daintily curled locks piled on her head under a wide lacy parasol, a dress the height of fashion clung to her petite body and her face was painted to fashionable unrecognizability.

"Whoa! Who's the babe?" Vash demanded, looking over Milly's shoulder. Meryl shot him a withering look and did not deign to answer.

"And there's no way I'm going to another one of those family affairs, especially _this_ one, without..." Meryl cut herself off.

"A date?" Milly finished for her. Meryl nodded curtly.

"Why's it so important now Meryl?" Milly asked curiously.

"See the other name on the invitation? The prospective bride-groom?" Meryl asked tightly.

"Yes," Milly said.

"He's my ex-fiancee," she ground out. "And he's marrying my younger step-sister."


	2. Always on Your Side

**Long Winded Authors Note of Explanation for Knives' Behavior: **(I like talking in capitals, it makes me feel important ;). I couldn't really think of a reason at the time for Knives to be hanging around the house and not out machinating on bringing about his eden, getting his genocide on and just generally being the homicidal sociopath we all know and fear, I mean love... --; it just came out that way as I was writing it. The more epic story where Knives plays a pivotal role that I want to write isn't written yet so I'm posting this one. He doesn't have a very big part, sad to say. I meant to leave an authors note at the top or bottom of the page of the first chapter explaining why Vash's psychotic twin was acting so very OOC. But I forgot to. The only explanation I could come up with to explain his good behavior was that Vash must've "Asimoved" him. All you Babylon 5 fans out there know what I'm talking about! cricket noises ...um... anyone?

Well anyway if anyone has seen the movie "I, Robot" based on the book by the same title by Issac Asimov, you'll note in the beginning that there are three basic rules for robots: "No robot is allowed to harm a Human, or by inaction allow a human to come to harm." "A robot must obey orders given it by a human except where such orders would conflict with the first law." "A robot can protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the first or second law."

Well there was a scene in the fifth season of B-5 where the evil telepath Bester implants a psychic imperative on this guy who has it in for him (with very good reason, believe me) stating that Garibaldi can't kill him, and as he's explaining it to him he says something along the lines of "I "Asimoved" you," meaning that those three rules were implanted as a psychic imperative on his brain.

So that's kinda what Vash did; I figure he'd be pretty dumb not to have some kind of insurance on his twin to make sure he behaves himself and doesn't run around killing people again. Knives can't kill people because Vash implanted a psychic imperative while he was sleeping... and that's my story and I'm sticking to it, in case they ask.

Anyway now that that's over and done with, on with the second chapter!

_"He's my ex-fiancée," she ground out. "And he's marrying my younger step-sister."_

"Ouch," Vash said after a moment in which silence dominated the room.

"You never mentioned you had a fiancée Meryl," Milly said after another moment.

"I don't," she said shortly straightening her spine and picking up another form. After a long moment in which they all looked on curiously she finally added

"It was a long time ago. I've all but forgotten it now."

Not true, Vash thought, able to see that just by looking at her body language. She had turned back to her work and the clackity-clack of the keys of her typewriter was pronounced, her jaw was firm and there wasn't a hint of tremble about her lips but Vash easily tell that she had not just "forgotten about it." Her shoulders were tense as two coiled springs and her posture so stiff and correct Vash was certain that _someone_ in the room had spent a portion of her life with a rod against her spine. There was also a very fine tremor of fury about her, a tension in her muscles that said she was trying to contain herself.

I wish she'd open up a little, Vash thought, not for the first time. From the long searching look Milly was giving her, Meryl's partner was easily thinking the same thing. He opened his mouth to say something but Milly shook her head and said

"Don't ask about it now Mister Vash," she cautioned him. "She'll say or not say about it when she's ready and not until then."

That's what I'm afraid of, he thought glumly. She plays her cards too close to her chest, and she's too mule-stubborn to know when to fold them. 

Vash was aware of how she felt about him. Oh, her feelings weren't obvious, Meryl had been anything but blatant and her customary reserve had at first kept him from considering the notion that she might feel anything besides duty or, at best, a light friendship with him... but after everything that had happened and how she'd stayed with him he knew. He knew she didn't just consider him as a friend. And to be honest... he tucked the notion firmly away.

Not now, perhaps not ever. 

His brother was dead-set against the idea. He had stated quite clearly in their first communications after he began to heal that the very notion of Vash mingling his genes with _other_ species sickened him. He hadn't _said_ but had certainly intimated that if Vash were to pursue the matter, his brother might be forced to break the oath that bound their truce... namely that the world would have one less human in it.

In Knives' mind he was protecting his brother (whether his brother wanted his protection or not), regardless about how Vash felt about having that stringent protection placed on him. He wasn't willing to engage in another battle with his twin over the matter, not when they'd finally reached some form of peace, no matter how fragile, after over a hundred years of feuding and suffering.

But at the same time, some things were worth fighting for. He'd never met a girl like Meryl, and Vash had been all over the world more than once. And if he lived another hundred years he didn't think he'd meet another like her. But that was when one of his brother's damned logical arguments against the idea came into play; _she wouldn't live as long as he did_. In another sixty or eighty years she'd be old, if not dead, and he'd likely still be the same.

So what, he argued back internally. People have the same life-span no matter what kind they are... we live until we die. 

Knives was not prepared to listen to such an argument however; he pointed out that, despite the numerous and enthusiastic attempts on his life, Vash had managed to live this long. His twin had the notion that if he allowed the relationship to proceed the way Vash wanted it to, that when the girl finally did die Vash would loose his will to live. Knives did not want to be left as the only one.

Vash knew his brother felt threatened by her, deep down. His brother had one response for things that threatened him and that was to eliminate the threat. Knives would never believe that Vash could love more than one person. His twin could be prickly, controlling and exceedingly jealous (whether he realized it or not). For Knives there was no having both, it was "either you love me or you love her." It always had been that way. Vash suspected that was part of the reason he'd tried to get rid of humanity; he just plain didn't like competition.

So who's this ex-fiancée of hers? he wondered. He didn't need to be a telepath to feel the waves of fury radiating off from her. Whatever had happened "a long time ago", she was still pissed.

Of course, she's always pissed, he thought. It was usually his fault.

But to her credit, Meryl might be quick to anger (the term "hair-trigger" had to have been invented just for her) but she was also quick to forgive too. She could easily be described as "prickly as a cactus" but once her hard, suspicious outer shell had been breached, Meryl was...

Okay, maybe not _soft_, he reconsidered. But she was caring and kind, generous and willing to do anything, brave any danger, for the ones she cared about. She had a lot of good qualities (and her share of flaws, but who didn't?) he just didn't see why she went to such pains to hide her softer side.

I don't really feel like going home, Meryl pouted, if only in the privacy of her mind.

"Sir?" Meryl said a little hesitantly. The barkeep, one Lewis Plummer who had owned and operated the establishment for the last fifteen years (inherited from his father and so on) looked up in question at his newest waitress. Meryl wasn't entirely certain what he thought of her, she did tend to go through the trays on a fairly regular basis, and her short fuse had cost them the occasional wanderer; although the regulars certainly seemed to take delight in her viper-tonged harangues; they'd taken to calling her "Old Faithful" in honor of a famous geyser on earth that had blown up with infamous regularity. The owner of the establishment had never said one way or the other how he felt about her violent temper. Then, this was a bar... she was probably something he wasn't unaccustomed to seeing the likes of.

"Yes, Miss Meryl?" the Mr. Plummer inquired.

"Do you mind if I...?" she inclined her head over to the tiny piano nestled away in the corner collecting dust. His eyebrows rose with surprise as he said

"I didn't know you played."

"I learned when I was younger," Meryl replied. It was part of "a ladylike upbringing" or so her stepmother had said. Meryl had hated the instruction in classical piano; Chopin, Bach, and Tchaicovsky were, in her opinion, worn out saws that any one with a rudimentary awareness of the classics knew how to play. She'd hated baroque fustiness and in her opinion they should have stayed that way (broke, that was heh heh) but now, when her nerves were so frazzled and she was feeling so on-edge Meryl was inclined to find those once-hated old classics soothing, like the embrace of an old friend.

Chopin instead of Mozart I think, she decided.

The thing was sadly off-key, she noted as her fingers, accustomed to dancing so easily over the keys of a typewriter, settled on the yellow-aged faux ivory keys of the tiny standing piano. Her family had, of course, been able to afford a full grand which was kept in tune even though no-one really played it, the strange way the strings were condensed in order to fold a horizontal harp-shaped sound box into a vertical rectangular box played madness with the acoustics as well. She didn't mind though.

It only took one movement through a piece of the old classics before that famous feeling of rebellion crept up o her again. She hadn't liked learning those old songs then, and even as an adult had little appreciation for their classical beauty, when she'd been a girl she'd rebelled just a little and snuck leaflets of rock songs and popular music in with her tutor's precious Mozart and... guy with the funny Russian name, something like Rashminov(1) or something.

"Why Miss Meryl," the old barkeep said, his voice lighting with surprise and pleasure. "You're real good!"

"I ought to be," Meryl replied with a crooked smile. "My teacher slapped my hands with a ruler when I flubbed up."

She rolled her hands down the keys and into a segue that led straight to an old favorite of hers by Sheryl Crow. Her step-mother had _hated_ Sheryl Crow, a rock artist from the twentieth century that Meryl had taken a liking to early on. Her father's old electronic musical archive had been converted into an old fashioned record for the gramophone that Meryl had worshiped. It had been that and the Beatles.

I wish she'd let me learn guitar like I wanted to instead, Meryl thought wistfully. She was an adult now and could certainly hire the lessons for herself if she wanted them, but now it appeared she didn't have the time.

"I don't believe I've ever heard that song before," Lewis said curiously.

"I'm just instrumentalizing it," Meryl said wryly. "You don't want to hear me sing, I'm terrible."

"Aww c'mon, can't be any worse than the drunken chorus of "every sperm is sacred" he replied good-naturedly.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Meryl said, shrugging with her voice. She started the song over and added what she remembered of the words

"My yesterdays are all boxed up, and neatly put away... but every now and then you come to mind..."

Lewis winced a little and said

"I _was_ warned, you don't have the voice for mezzo."

Meryl nodded agreement, but that didn't lessen her enjoyment of the song. She didn't care if she could sing it well, she just liked the music.

"You were always waiting da da da dada dada" Meryl smiled sheepishly at not remembering the words, she'd known them by heart as a girl but it had been a long time since she'd thought of them. "But when your name was called you found a place to hide. When you knew that I was always on your side." She instrumentalized the chorus, because if her singing mezzo sounded bad, Meryl trying to sing a higher key was truly atrocious.

Too melancholy by half and someone would think that I'm sining about that idiot! she thought to herself. Although which idiot she was singing about, past or present, even Meryl didn't know.

She switched songs.

"Walk with me the Diamond Road. Tell me every story told. Give me something of your soul so you don't fade away... I wanna wake up to the sound of waves. Crashing on a brand new day. Keep the memory of your face but wipe the pain away... When you're lonely, when your heart aches. It's gonna take a little time. To make it to the other side..."

"Sempai!" Millie said in surprise from the doorway. " I didn't know you could sing!"

"If you want to call it that, personally I'd say I'm _murdering_ my way through it," Meryl replied wryly, a little piqued at having been interrupted from her Sheryl Crow groove. She nodded to the bench next to her. "Have a seat, this song takes two people to sing it right anyway."

She proceeded to teach her best friend in the world the second (hidden) chorus, the part that was said simultaneously with the original chorus. They had good fun as only two best friends who really understand each other and are touched by the same things can.

"... no no no," Meryl said pausing her playing. "You sing it with me, don't wait until I'm done. I'll sing, "when you're lonely" and you sing "you're not alone" when I start the next verse got it?"

They made their way raggedly through a chorus. They weren't any good, but oddly when they sang it together they managed to sound halfway decent. Meryl was smiling by the end of it. So was Millie.

"I like that song Meryl," Millie said. "I think I'll make it my new theme song."

"It's my favorite too, what was your old one?"

"Jujubee's "Dusty Traveler" Meryl gave her friend a weird look and said

"Never heard of it."

"They were the biggest hit on the satellite about six years ago. I stood in line three hours to buy their record when they toured through our district. Me and a friend spent four days on the road sleeping under porches and raiding dumpsters just to see one of their concerts at the dome in Blue City." This said with the pride of a true fan swapping horror stories about the lengths they would go to to be near their idol.

"Millie? You're a groupie?" Meryl said in surprise. She hadn't known that about her friend.

"Yep," Millie said proudly. "How about you Meryl? Worship any bands when you were growing up?"

"The only ones I knew of had been dead for hundreds of years. My step-mother was of the opinion that having satellite within the house would "corrupt our morality" or something like that."

There was a long pause while Meryl played random bits of whatever came to mind, out of the corner of her eyes she saw Millie struggling with herself over something. Meryl decided to relent and have pity on her poor friend.

"You know that wedding invitation I received earlier?" she said at last. Millie nodded, vitally interested.

"I've decided I'm going to go," Meryl said with the firmness of a Stryfe who has made up her mind.

"Are you sure Meryl?" Millie asked a little hesitantly. "When we spoke of it last time, you were dead set against it."

"I don't want to go, but I think staying away would be worse in the long run. Besides, my father and i aren't on speaking terms right now and to be painfully honest both of us are too mule stubborn ever admit that we were both wrong. The situation has festered long enough."

"Gee sempai, I didn't know you and your father weren't talking to each other," Millie said, sounding dismayed. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No Millie, it's just... stupid pride. I get that from him, I guess."

Her hands faltered on the keys and silence invaded the room like a wet wool blanket. Meryl's eyes were far away and her voice was wistful when she spoke next

"I always felt a little jealous of you when you told me your stories about your home and family. I wished that my family was more like yours."

"Gosh Meryl... you never said!" Millie said sounding surprised.

"You probably guessed by now that I'm not good at talking about what's on the inside. A lot of it's my upbringing, my father's a workaholic as well as being strict and old-fashioned. We're taught to keep that reserve, even among family; "stiff upper lip" and all that. It's hard learning for me to be open with people, I'm just not used to it!"

"Is that why you haven't told Mister Vash how you feel about him?" Millie inquired a little delicately but also with some censure toward her friend.

"That's part of it," Meryl said. "Another part of it is..." Millie waited patiently while Meryl searched for words and courage to say things that were for her so difficult to say.

"...Is that I did once," she said, trying not to let her voice shake though it was plain to her best friend that holding in the emotions evoked by the memories of whatever had happened was difficult as talking about it was.

"Not Vash you see, but someone else. When I was young I threw all caution, all reserve, everything completely to the winds. I fell in love, willingly threw myself off the edge defiantly in fact, and trusted in the air to hold me up. It didn't." The sad hollow finality in her voice was something Millie could resonate with.

"A person only brings herself to love that freely once," Meryl said. "I overcame my native sense of caution that first time perhaps because of youth and naivety, but ever since then I've liked the ground firmly beneath my feet. I don't know that I'm strong enough to fight my nature. But I've decided..."

She paused and gave her friend a hopeful smile then continued

"And I hope you'll support me in this. I've decided that with-holding from joy for fear of pain is no way to live at all. That's part of the reason I've decided to attend this little family gathering. I think I need to face the past that hurt me and know that my wounds are fully healed over before I can go on with my life. Also, I think I should repair damages with my father... we had a falling out before I left and the rift has never been sealed between us. And lastly..." here she gave her friend a mischievous conspiratorial smile. "I want to see them all drop a litter of kittens when they find out I spend my days as a barmaid and my nights shacked up with a notorious outlaw gunman."

Millie and Meryl both shared a laugh over that and waved a goodbye to the barkeep as they made their way home.

"So how are you going to handle your first love, and I assume this guy you alluded to earlier is the same one who is now marrying your sister?"

"Yes he is, or was... or whatever. I haven't really thought much about it. The petty part of me wants to just show up there looking utterly sensational on the arm of mister tall, tall and handsome just to show them all that their opinions don't matter anymore."

"Why not do that Meryl?" Millie questioned.

"It's tempting, believe me. I think in the end, however, it wouldn't be right. I don't want to misrepresent myself and I just can't lie to family, I may not like them some or even most of the time but I can't do that either so... I'll just have to walk in there, brazenly truthful. They can just learn to accept me for who I am for a change. Frankly; I'm just tired of being judged by them. I'm tired of being held up to some stupid impossible standard and basically told "measure up or we won't love you." I'm _tired_ of that Millie!"

Meryl looked shocked at herself. The kind of shock that comes with a personal epiphany.

"Boy, where did that come from...?" Meryl said, looking embarrassed.

"Your heart I would imagine," Millie replied with perfect equanimity.

Vash looked at her from the corner of his eye as they steamer pulled up to the station in Purgatory City, where Meryl said they would have some form of conveyance waiting for them to bring them all to her home. She was nervous and trying hard not to show it; she didn't fidget openly and her face was a mask of serenity (was _that_ ever a change!) but there was a tension in her shoulders a darkening of worry in her lavender-grey eyes that betrayed her to someone who knew her well.

The differences were subtle, not anything overt but she had gone out of her way to look her best that morning. Her clothes were even whiter than usual, she'd double bleached them the night before. Meryl had actually ironed her cape. Vash didn't want to think of how long that had taken her. She usually favored a very minimalist style for make up; a touch of cover-up to block out the UV rays, lip-balm and that was about it but today she not only had used base, but powder, blush, eye-shadow, pencil and mascara as well as actual lipstick. She was artfully subtle about it but there was a plain difference. Her hair wasn't the wind-blown natural look she usually seemed to favor either. That morning she had tamed it down, he didn't even want to think how, and managed some form of style despite the fact that it was so short.

Vash was tempted to take her hand in his and reassure her that no matter what kind of vipers nest they were walking into, everything would be fine.

Yeah, right... he thought to himself. I'm the last person who should tell her that everything should be fine. Due to some quirk of the universe, Vash suffered under some malignant cloud of disaster. His brother had been responsible for a good deal of it but even when he wasn't directly or indirectly responsible... Vash just had bad luck. He was a trouble-magnet, a lightning rod for all sort of odd disasters. It wasn't really his fault but just the same something always seemed to come along and mess things up. It was a good thing that he was such an optimist because his life would be considered proof of truth for a pessimist.

Meryl wouldn't want the reassurance anyway. She was prickly; independent and self-reliant to a fault. She'd see any attempt at comfort or commiseration as a criticism of her ability to handle it.

Maybe unless you're like Millie, family just inevitably screws your life up, he thought a little glumly. He'd had the devils own time wringing a promise from his twin to be on his best behavior. As far as Knives was concerned they were both going for the free food. That was alright, Meryl had reassured him that his brother didn't even have to come to the reception, if he liked he could just stay in the room she'd arranged for them and live off the room service provided by the House.

As soon as they stepped off from the steamer a young man in the uniform of a bell-hop came to take thier bags and check them though customs while another young man offered to carry their personal items. After he was politely declined a young woman, also dressed in the uniform of the service, came to offer them tea and take them to the lounge to wait until the arrival of their expected conveyance.

"Gee Meryl," Millie said, a little unsettled by the obsequious offers of assistance and "if you need anything just ring" coming at her from all angles. "You certainly seem to be well known around here..."

Meryl for her part looked a little embarrassed.

"Sorry about all of that," she muttered. "My family is a little..._demanding_ when they travel, and have the money to be so I guess. I'd forgotten what it was like, after so long of roughing it out on the frontier. I miss the frontier already." That last in an undertone.

"Miss Meryl!" a voice called off to the right. It was an elderly voice but elegant with the accent of fine breeding. Vash looked over to see a tall skinny grey-haired gentleman in a pressed suit with an air of superiority hovering about him waiting off to one side.

"Mister Bernard!" Meryl called, waving good-naturedly at him. In an aside to Millie and Vash she said "Mister Bernard is our butler and chauffeur, Father must have sent him to pick us up."

The conveyance that had been arranged for them was nothing short of an actual stretch Hummer; vintage, no less. It gleamed from a fresh wash and wax job beneath the light of the suns. Meryl didn't seem to notice however as she heartily shook the hand of her old butler.

"It is good to see you again Missus," Bernard said skilfully taking her carry-on from her and ordering the young man who had taken all of their bags at customs and was toting them around in a luggage carrier to set them in the truck carefully.

Geeze! Vash thought a little taken aback by how everything was being managed with a ubiquitous brisk efficiency. The old saying is right, Money talks. A lot of money sings and dances. 

Just exactly how rich was her family that she'd have people bowing and scraping to her as soon as she dropped her name? She left a tip with the bag-boy and gave the rest of her party a small tight smile of nervousness and said

"Well, in we go."

(1) Rachmaninov ( I think that's how you spell his name.)

Yet another useless authors note: (you can ignore this if you want). Yes, yes, part of this chapter is nothing more than my altar for offering paeans of praise for my all time favorite singer/songwriter. You're free to disagree, but I think Sheryl Crow is the best thing that ever happened to music (aside of maybe the Beatles), I've been a follower of hers from the very start of her career, and her music has been a constant in my life since my early teens. I also believe that good music, good songwriting, never dies. I love her song Diamond Road, whenever I'm feeling down or bummed out about something I just need to listen to that song and it reminds me about hope, and before I realize it, I'm smiling again. So there we have it.


	3. Good is Good

Milly looked at her partner trying hard not to fidget and betray her nervousness. The ride over was made in air-conditioned comfort (a rarity that Millie had never indulged in before) and was not very long in duration. It was maybe an hour before Meryl called up to the chauffeur "stop at the point, I'd like a look around."

The spacious hummer, more than large enough to fit the four of them with room to spare paused suddenly and pulled over to the curb of the road on a hill.

"Come out and take a look, you'll rarely have seen anything like it," Meryl said.

Curious, Milly followed her directly to a rocky rise at the top of the hill. A warm wind smelling oddly saturated and green with growing things rushed up at her when she stood beside Meryl.

"There it is, Trevino Vineyards," Meryl said and odd sort of pride lacing her tone.

In the valley before Milly stretched neat rows of green for as far as she could see. It was like a Geo-plant only... bigger. A lot bigger.

"These grapes have been here for three generations of my family, and are descended from the original stock vines that came from Earth along with us," Meryl said softly. "That enormous pile over there.."

She gestured to a large, sprawling well-laid-out mansion done in the hacienda style with clay shingles and white plastered adobe walls decorated with blooming cactus gardens, orderly gavel paths and a fenced herd of thomases that seemed to spread out like the roots of a tree in the center of the vineyard.

"Is where I grew up," she finished.

Over the roof of the valley there was an odd iridescent shimmer, almost like a soap bubble warping the air. Milly blinked a couple of times, certain she was imagining it, but it didn't seem to go away.

"What's that Meryl?" Milly asked at last.

"The secret of our success," Meryl said with a wry smile. "It is a--"

"Particle field," Knives interrupted with a superior look. "It keeps the temperature moderated and the waterfall regular in a miniature biome contained within it."

"Just so," Meryl agreed uncomfortably, looking down.

"And I would assume that the energy found to run this precious field of yours, which is not cheap in costs of energy, is created by...us."

"Actually you assume wrong," Meryl replied tightly. "My illustrious ancestor was too much of a cheap miser, and too guarded with his precious technological secret I might add, to want to run a cable to tap into the nearest Plant."

"I am all astonishment," Knives said cuttingly. "And how, prey-tell, do you run this fine establishment?"

"That's for me to know and you to guess at," Meryl replied promptly. Knives frowned at her but she was already turning away to go back to the car. Millie shrugged and followed her.

The hummer resumed it's trip down into the vineyard proper, followed the long road that led through the neat rows of grapevines running along their stakes and wire supports to the wrought-iron gates of the manse proper. The place looked even more elegant and imposing up close. The chauffeur deposited them at the end of a circular driveway closest to the house in front of a large open cement courtyard with a classic marble fountain and boxed and potted plants at evenly spaced intervals along the side. The courtyard was surrounded on either side by elegant whitewashed porticoed walls leading to wings of the building. The enormous and intimidating front facade greeted them on the other side of the fountain up a series of wide, sweeping steps. The place oozed money and self importance.

"Once more into the breach, my friends," Meryl muttered under her breath.

The front doors were enormous, double-wide affairs made of real wood, with a cut-out window of paneled glass set by wrought iron. The panes made a stylized picture of a bunch of grapes, a wine bottle and a nearby goblet.

Meryl swallowed subtly as the left door was opened by one of the ubiquitous staff members dressed ever so properly in a coat and tails, neat as a pin and impeccably groomed.

Vash, Millie and Knives all found themselves scrutinized by the so-superior head butler of the household. The look was something akin to the regard ones gives something that the cat dragged in from out of the rain (not that they had rain on this world...). Meryl frowned in his direction as a warning to hold his tongue unless he wanted to get on her bad side. The man had the grace to look chagrined.

"This way, if you please," was all the butler said.

"Please have our belongings taken up to the rooms," Meryl said as they followed the head butler into the mansion.

Geeze I can't tell what this place oozes more of; money, or self-importance, Vash thought as the decorative gate that led to the inner courtyard with its neat gardens, decorative brickwork paths and actual water-fountain in the center opened. He was feeling intimidated already and he hadn't even gotten inside the damned thing!

I'm going to break something, I just know it! he thought nervously. Meryl would never forgive him if he ruined things for her with her family and he felt like he was soiling something just with his mere presence.

The doors to the mansion were actual antiqued oak, with panes of beveled, stained glass in the picture of a bunch of grapes and a bottle of wine (in case there was any doubt about what this place produced). They were opened by the invisable hands of more of those servants.

Just where do they hide themselves? he wondered. He hadn't even sensed them and his gun-fight-honed senses rarely missed a trick.

The foyer was cavernous; round with a majestic staircase slitting up over a decorated arch that led to the next room, the banisters were decorated at the ends with large marble cherubs. The floor was sandstone polished to a glass finish, the individual tiles of which were cut into a radial pattern of interlocking diamons and triangles that centered in a starburst at the middle of the room. Hanging from the enormous cavern of the ceiling above the starbust-tile floor was an opulent chandelier of real gold and crystal.

Meryl looked over at him, then up at the chandelier and sighed a little. He didn't know for certain what she was thinking but he could guess, she was probably hoping they'd renewed their insurance policy. He couldn't blame her in all honesty. He was rather hoping the same thing himself...

"Wow Meryl..." Millie said, gazing in wide-eyes awe at the opulence which surrounded her.

"Don't look so impressed," she grumbled. "It's exactly what they want."

"You and your party may freshen up through there," the so-superior butler said with a tight look. It had the sound of suggestion but the weight of a command.

"Dinner will be served presently, for now there will be refreshments in the west drawing room. You will find the company gathered there should you care to come down and join them," the butler informed them.

Meryl tried to look reassuring through her own sense of nervousness and said to Vash,

"Go ahead and follow him. You're in good hands. Millie and I will join you presently. Then we get to run the gauntlet."

Vash was led away, not without a reluctant backwards glance, by the superior guy in the long-tailed coat and impeccable white shirt. He'd always thought that the classical depiction of head butlers as being snobbish and cleanlier-than-thou had to be some kind of myth but apparently not.

Vash had no idea what this "freshen up" might entail, he thought he'd freshened up earlier; he'd showered recently and had even washed his face before he'd come. He looked with uncertainty at the butler who led them to a large suite with a small sitting groom to the fore, a bedroom with two beds neatly made and a water closet off to one side. Vash tossed his travel bag on the nearest bed while Knives fastidiously washed himself of the dust of the travel. The butler, he noted after a minute, did not go anywhere but waited nearby the bathroom with a punctilious pose.

"Is he gonna watch me piss?" he questioned aside to his brother after a few moments of staring cluelessly back at the butler.

"No Vash," Knives replied with the disdain of one who was forced to teach lessons in manners to the hopelessly dense. "He is waiting for you to hand him your coat and boots so that they may be attended to."

If Vash had no clue what to do with a servant, Knives obviously did not share his ignorance. After his coterie of evil minions and his creepy-ass psycho right-hand henchman Knives knew _exactly_ what to do with a servant. He handed off his own duster and allowed the man to polish his boots, straighten his hair and bring him a clean shirt to wear.

"I'd really rather not undress in front of this guy," Vash muttered when the snobby butler at last left to go get his brother his shirt. In response Knives ordered the butler to leave the other shirt and tie on the bed and take himself off.

"Do I hafta wear this," Vash whined, eying the stuffy white silk shirt with ruffles down the front and the funny black tie that went with it with antipathy.

"You do if you do not wish to embarrass your smaller female servant," Knives said in a tone that brooked no argument. "And I take back my original assessment of your short maid, Vash; it is _useful_ to have a wealthy servant, for they can provide you with comforts you don't really want to do with out. So... when shall we take over?"

"We're not taking over Knives," Vash replied. "We're just here for a wedding then we're leaving."

Knives said no more then, but Vash could tell by his silence that the discussion was not ended. Vash decided against trying to correct his brother's insistence upon calling Milly and Meryl his servants. As long as he considered the two of them as belonging to Vash they would be left unmolested and safe. Vash put on the silk shirt and his brother tied the tie. The dinner jacket felt a little strange when he first put it on, the cut made it restrictive and hard to move around in, and he couldn't move his arms more than perpendicular to his body.

"Are you sure he brought the right size?" Vash questioned after having tried it on. "I can't move right in it." It was better if he left it unbuttoned, but not by much.

"It's not cut for you to move around in," Knives replied. "You're going to dinner, not a gunfight."

He felt weird when he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair had grown out in the interim since he'd come back with his brother and he hadn't bothered getting it cut, so Knives had expediently slicked it back and tied it into a small tail. Vash never thought he'd miss it, but suddenly he wanted his coat and spikes back.

"It looks like I'm ready to go. Are you coming or do you want to just have dinner up in the room?"

"I prefer my dinner without the distasteful presence of humans who would only soil it with their... humanness," Knives said immediately.

"Suit yourself," said Vash. He knew Meryl was very concerned about this despite her defiance in going "as she was" Vash could sense that she desperately wanted them to accept her anyway. He was beginning to suspect form context clues that Meryl might be setting herself up for a rather large disappointment.

I guess we'll be failures together because after the way she and Milly have stuck by me, I can't let her go it alone. 

Meryl let the chambermaid brush her coat while the other one bustled about her room putting away all of her personal effects from their quasi-permanent place in her suitcase. Before they'd settled in LR while Vash went out to fight his brother (and after) Meryl could hardly remember a time when she'd bothered unpacking. She'd learned her lessons about unpacking early on in her life of following Vash the Stampede around, and that was; _don't_. She never knew when he might capriciously decide to skip town on them and she needed to be ready to leave at a moments notice.

It feels so weird being back here, she thought, looking around her old childhood room with new eyes. It had been converted into a guest room and there was no longer any trace of the young girl who had grown up here in it. Her old canopy bed had been replaced by two serviceable double beds, the dresser, desk and mirror had been switched out with another set for guesting, all of her personal effects had been (for the most part) given away with the few keepsakes she felt worth saving safely packed in the attic. It was actually a relief on many levels. She didn't know if she could handle being surrounded by childhood things when she was feeling out of sorts about the whole fiasco.

"Are you sure you don't with to change into something more... appropriate for dinner miss?" one of the chambermaids questioned delicately.

The outfit she had on was the best she owned now, the newer of her white office shirts with its rows of frog-and-toggle buttons that had yet to show all that many signs of wear and use, a grey regulation-length office skirt, tights and her boots. Milly's outfits was... less refined than hers, showing a good deal of use and wear on it both from long travel and from her work at the well. If there was one thing she didn't want it was to have her best friend feel like she was the rag that got mixed in with the linens. She'd just tough it out with her and this and that to those who didn't like it.

"No thank-you," Meryl said politely as she looked herself over in the mirror. "Just a change of shirts will do." She tucked a few stray hairs that had come out of her arrangement and freshened her make-up and lipstick.

"Very well miss," the maid said, shrugging with her voice as if to say 'it's your funeral'. Meryl ignored her.

"Gosh sempai," Millie said still looking around her at the finery. "Everything here is so... nice. I haven't seen a place this grand since we investigated that insurance scam at that grand hotel-casino in New Vegas."

"I'd like to think that this place is in finer taste," Meryl said dryly. She still had nightmares on occasion of the pink neon light-up bed, and the private slot machine in the shape of a naked woman located at the mini-bar. She shuddered a little.

"If you're ready miss?" the maid questioned with a polite bow. Meryl took one last look in the mirror.

"As ready as I'll ever be, and if I stay much longer I might not go down at all," she said.

Vash was waiting for them in the foyer looking very nervous and out of place in his borrowed finery. Despite the incongruity of the infamous outlaw gunman and legendary Humanoid Typhoon having been stuffed into evening wear, he puffed out his chest and gave her his best "confident bravado" look when he saw her. Meryl couldn't help but smile a little in return.

"How do I look?" he asked as she joined him. Meryl cocked her head to one side, appraisingly and stepped in close. She buttoned his jacket closed and slipped her hands under the front flaps of the jacket to tug his shirt straight. She then delicately neatened the collar of his shirt and aligned the tie, and brushed the shoulders of the jacket, checking the fit of the arms and lastly settled the lapels of the jacket. It was strange, even though her touch was all business and Meryl didn't mean anything other than the last minute adjustments she made to his look, there was something about it that felt strangely... _intimate_. She stepped back.

"I think you'll do," she said with what she felt was admirable evenness, despite the fact that there was some sort of invisible vice inexplicably gripping her chest and making it feel hard to breathe.

"Then we should go," he said. While he turned toward the doors of the drawing room, Milly caught Meryl's eye and there was no mistaking the twinkle in her own eyes and the barely suppressed (dare she call it a--) _smirk_ on her junior partners face. She thought this was cute! Meryl tried to frown imposingly, she was not after all a woman who could be described as "cute" but somehow, her usual intimidating look wound up becoming a smile, completely of its own accord!

Meryl felt a wave of gratitude for her two friends for being so forbearing as to not let her face the viper pit alone.

The butler preceded them, announcing "Meryl Stryfe and guests" to the room at large. Meryl gave one last tight smile to her two friends before taking a deep breath and slipping into what she liked to call her mask-state. The insults would just roll right off her then.

When they stepped into the room, the entire assembly froze solid, the soft buzz of chatter and background piano played by a servant went dead as if suddenly cut by a knife. Every single eye in the room was fixed on the three of them.

I think I've had nightmares like this too... she thought vaguely, trying to think of something, anything, to say or do that might break this horrible unending pregnant pause.

The looks of dismay, shock and/or disdain weren't helping any either. Maybe she should have taken the maids advice. Too late now. Of course her stepmother could always be counted on to save a dinner party...

"Why Meryl dear!" she said rising in her elegant evening wear to greet her prodigal step-daughter.

She hasn't changed much... Meryl thought assessingly, suppressing her dismay. She was as agelessly beautiful as ever, with her auburn hair (not a single streak of grey to be found) curled and twisted into a flattering crown on her head and her sleek, lithe body sheathed in a dress that cost more than some desert families yearly incomes. The current Mrs Trevino had been an acknowledged beauty, even made it so far as Miss Lacoda Territory, before she'd married the current master of Trevino Vineyards and given birth to the younger miss in the household (not Meryl, but her half-sister Mellisandra).

"How... ah... ah..." Mrs Trevino was obviously fishing for something to say.

"Mother, I'd like to introduce my friends," Meryl said in a strained voice that sounded remarkably even (and here she'd worried it was going to come out as a squeak!).

"Of course, where are my manners?" her mother said a little too heartily. She was less successful at hiding her relief at being able to find something polite to fall back on.

"Mother, this is Milly Thompson, my best friend and partner at the Bernardelli Insurance Society And this..." Meryl said, bring him forward a little. "Is Vash."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Mrs Trevino said as she shook their hands in turn. "I am Claire, the mother of the bride."

Thank god that's over with, Meryl thought, but her stomach had yet to unknot itself (and she suspected that it wouldn't until she was safely tucked away in her bed that night). She could already hear the sursuration of whispers and veiled conversation going on about the room, people leaning close to each other so as not to be overheard, hushed titters of laughter behind snapped-open fans, veiled glances and more remarks. Ah, the rumors were starting already, how refreshing that somethings never changed.

Now to make with the polite small-talk. If she could just keep things going along the polite vein involving "the weather, and everyones health" in the words of Bernard Shaw, she might just make it through the hors d'oeuvre.

"So Mister... Vash, was it? Just Vash?" Mrs Trevino questioned, groping for something polite to say.

"Just Vash," Meryl said quickly when it looked like he was either going to answer with his real title or that silly, long winded made-up one he'd tried to use on Mister Wolfwood when they'd first met.

"I'll thank you not to interrupt my dear," her mother said pointedly to her stepdaughter (whom she was maybe six or seven years older than at best). Her stepmother was on the scent for information. This could go so wrong...

"Now, as I was saying. Mister Vash," this with a honey-sweet smile. Oh if he only knew the sword hidden within it. "You seem like a very... responsible young man."

Meryl choked on the glass of champagne that she'd just taken a sip of after a passing waiter had given it to her.

"Raspberry," Meryl explained at her mothers inquiring look. A raised eyebrow, but the subject was left alone.

"What pray-tell is it that you do?" her mother pursued. She was quite plainly eying the Longcolt 45 holstered at his hip and coming to her own conclusions as to what he did for a living.

Oh great... here it comes, Meryl thought, trying not to roll her eyes.

"I am a hunter of peace," he said confidently. "Searching for the elusive mayfly known as love." He was pouring it on rather thick in Meryl's opinion, but she wasn't about to interrupt his attempt to smooth things over. Who knows, perhaps his sad attempts at charm would actually work.

"Well... that's nice," her mother replied uncertainly. "You seem to have found it." She indicated her head to Meryl.

"Ah, what's on the menu tonight mother?" Meryl inquired, swiftly changing the subject before it could be probed too deeply. But her mother went on just as if she hadn't heard her step-daughter's query.

"You know we had thought that our own eldest girl, a _lovely_ young woman of _twenty-five_ and very _eligible,_ I might add, would certainly be married off by now. But well... we all know how that worked out."

Meryl just kept smiling politely. Internally, her temper barometer was starting to edge its way upwards; it was at around "steam kettle" currently.

"I tried to tell her that riding thomas-back across the desert would ruin her complexion, if not her figure, all that sun and wind, not to mention the dust clogging every pore," the Lady of the Vineyard went on, happily oblivious to Meryl's distemper.

"A career that takes her away from home an hearth more often than not is no way to attract a husband I've always said, but... well... Meryl is Meryl I suppose. Nobody blames you dear." This said with a reassuring pat to Meryl's hands and a false smile that told her everyone thought just the opposite.

"Glad to hear it," Meryl said politely. Hang me now! 

"If its okay with you, I think I'll just _mingle_ for a little while," Meryl said trying to disguise her awkwardness. The woman she called "mother" was after all a virtual stranger to her and she wasn't certain what _other_ kinds of things she would say if forced to carry on a conversation around the weather; it was hot, it was dry, it was windy... that's about it.

"Of course, I have to speak with the chef about the extra plates at dinner so..." with polite nods and a mutual feeling of reprieve they parted company.

"My goodness Meryl," Millie said in a subdued tone. "Our families aren't anything alike at all."

"Lucky you," Meryl said with a wan smile. She was having a hard time keeping up appearances and the fun had just barely started. She plucked up two more flutes of champagne with raspberries floating in them and handed them to her friends then next absconded with a tray of hors d'oeuvre.

"Tastes like an 87," Meryl remarked after a sip. "Good year."

"... dressed like a desert bohemian," one auntie murmured to another in the kind of undertone meant to be overheard. "I always said no good would come of letting her into that college, didn't I always say that? And after that horrid scene she caused before she left! Well it just goes to show you what happens when you let a girl go off for an education instead of a proper finishing school, soon they're running wild!" The other auntie nodded in emphatic agreement.

"She was always the difficult one," auntie two said knowledgeably. "My Claire never knew _what_ to do with her."

"Let's just go over this way," Meryl said shortly leading them in another direction, away from the two gossiping old maids.

"...see her hands?" Meryl caught the edge of another conversation. "She could sand a plank with them."

"And her hair, she looks more like a boy than..."

"Meryl," Millie said, looking both concerned and a little upset. "I think they're talking about _you_."

"And that tall boy with her," a well-dressed "dandy" attending the arm of an equally fashionable lady said with grating condescension. "Looks like he walked in out of some kind of "wild west show" or something."

They can make remarks about me until the cows come home, but they have no right to start in on my friends! Meryl thought angrily.

"Yeah," Meryl said, just loud enough for the dandy to overhear and let him know that he'd been overheard. "And you should see his sharp-shooting routine, he can put a bullet through a pea balanced on the end of a needle before you can say pacifist."

The dandy promptly shut up and found somewhere else to be. Good riddance.

"Sorry to drag you guys into this," Meryl apologized. "If you want to go upstairs and eat in peace I'll understand. I can handle these people, no problem; though I'm half tempted to give them my own demonstration to remind them of why I'm called Derringer Meryl." She inclined her head to the cut lead-crystal glasses lining the wet bar and the antique vases displayed on pedestals and gave a small mischievous smile.

"And you yell at me about property damage," Vash teased, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, but they're family; they'll _have_ to forgive me sooner or later," she replied then added "My guess would be later."

Milly tried not feel like a stork in the company of swans as she made her tour of the room alongside her best friend. Everyone here seemed so elegant and perfect, their clothes were all expensive and the height of haute couture, jewels of differing levels of taste and ostentation gleamed and glittered in display on necks, hands, waists and wrists. The low gentle hum of conversation offset by the gentle clink of fine crystal glasses swirled about her in eddies allowing Milly to catch a few words here a sentence there before the currents that guided the speakers ferried them someplace else.

This family reunion was nothing at all like what she was accustomed to; when Milly went home on her regular leave to attend her family reunion or wedding or (on those sad occasions) wake the house was always full to bursting with friends, neighbors, family and distant relations all climbing over one another to hug her up and welcome her back. People babbled at each other in a stream of volume (loud and louder) trying to be heard over one another and tell her what they'd been doing since they left and trying to get her story so that they could pass it on. The smiles were open and there was always someone else every time she turned around wishing her well.

Poor Meryl, Milly thought sympathetically. No wonder she had such a hard time opening up to anyone; _look_ at these people! They simpered and smirked to her face and said things like How Do You Do? then when she moved on they were judging the origins of her clothes!

"Don't take anything personally," Meryl cautioned, grabbing hold of Milly's sleeve after they'd passed by a small knot of recent debutants who were currently discussing the feasibility of perhaps selling the lot of them to a traveling circus, one of which suggested that it might be to the side-show.

"But they're being so cruel, Meryl!" Millie hissed, ready to put aside all attempts at decorum and use her stun-gun to teach them all some manners. These high-society folk were supposed to live their lives at the height of Manners with a capital M but Milly could see plainly that there were cowhands at her papa's ranch that had better upbringing than these pampered spaniels!

"They don't really know any other way to be," her elder said with resignation. "Many of them were born to a certain amount of privilege and idleness, with that sort of negligence comes a need to find something to fill up the long hours and occupy their minds... they just choose to pick at each other. Pity them, but don't let them get under your skin."

"If you can't let your family under your skin," Milly argued. "Then how are they supposed to reach your heart?"

"Oh look, honeyed pears!" Meryl said, avoiding the subject. Milly and Vash both exchanged a very long, very speaking Look. It was the kind of look that said "mmmmm-hmmmmmm!"

After snapping a few off a passing tray with practiced fingers Meryl continued

"It's not as if they're all entirely useless. This farm doesn't just produce grapes and vinegar they export well over half of this territory's fresh produce, as well as sending out aid packages to towns and villages struck by disaster or those that have simply suffered a blight or drought and don't have enough to feed everyone. Good press, you understand." That last was a little cynical, even for Meryl.

"Way to change the subject," Vash said.

Meryl looked like she was about to reply when she apparently spied something from the corner of her eye and abruptly froze. Her face went unreadable. Milly looked over at the entrance to the room and saw framed in the doorway the most beautiful couple.

The man was average height, thick wavy hair as dark as a raven's wing slicked back with one rakish lock hanging into his face. His eyes were dark, and his straight even white teeth under a neatly trimmed mustache seemed to flash out even more brightly against bronzed skin from a square jaw with a cleft in it. The suit he wore was obviously tailored to him and the line cut to accentuate broad shoulders, narrow hips and long slender legs. He was flanked on either side, oddly enough, by two bull-dogs that had learned to walk on their hind legs (or at least that was what the two men dressed in stark unrelieved black suits with a tommy gun and several other weapons ostentatiously displayed alongside them most closely resembled).

The lady on his arm was like a princess from a fairy-tale; her curled strawberry-blonde hair was swept up into an elegant diadem with curling ringlets all around, wide innocent grey-blue eyes with long lashes flashed demurely out from skin as pale and smooth as cream (that had obviously never spent a day in the hot suns and stinging wind-carried sands). Her nose was fine and patrician, her glossed lips full and petal-soft. She was a head taller than Meryl was, slender and shapely, filling out the ruffled blue-shading-to-purple evening dress she wore as easily as any model might. The dress was cut to display her many attributes, slender shoulders and arms, generous cleavage a narrow waist and flaring hips.

That must be them, Millie thought sympathetically as she looked over at Meryl who was contriving to look as if she'd never seen them before in her life. Suddenly a voice that quavered with age spoke from behind them.

"Where's my little spit-fire?" the voice asked.

"Grandfather!" Meryl exclaimed as she whirled around, her face alighting with joy for the first time all evening. She rushed over to envelop the oldest spry man that Milly had ever seen in an enthusiastic hug. He had a head of silver hair fading to white and a neatly trimmed goatee on a face seamed with fine lines. His posture was proud and ramrod-straight and his grey eyes still as sharp and piercing as a man half his age with signs of a good deal of intelligence as well as humor. His clothes were cut in a military style, all in white and silver; Millie was less than shocked to note that Meryl's own clothes were a feminized version of what he wore. So, this was the person she was closest to then. Meryl was smiling, a real genuine smile, and an answering grin spread of its own volition across Milly's face.

"Grandfather I'd like you to meet my two best friends," Meryl said, sounding more like her natural self than she had since they had arrived. "This is Vash, and this is Milly. You two, I'd like to introduce Provisional Council Territorial Governor and ex-Col. of the militia, Arthur David Stryfe Jr."

"A pleasure," the old man said. "And call me Artie."

"Everyone was surprised when we received your reply saying you were coming. Everyone except me," he said to Meryl. He frowned with censure at his grandchild. "I always said you'd been letting things go for too long and that isn't like you."

"I wrote you," Meryl sidestepped. "Did you get my letters?"

"I have them right next your your sainted grandmothers, god rest her soul," he replied then added

"And don't change the subject." Meryl grinned (and honest to goodness grin) then caught herself and modulated it to a small smile and said vaguely

"Can you blame me for putting it off? Pater was as mad as a sandworm in a music hall."

(It had been discovered early on that sandworms abhorred loud music and noises for the awful vibrations they created in the ground that played havoc on their sense of direction.)

"Such a stubborn boy," the old man said regretfully. "I often wonder where I went wrong in raising him."

"It's not your fault," she said patting his arm. "And speaking of my father, where is he? I haven't seen him yet; I thought for sure he'd come to... greet me."

"I believe the word you meant to use was gloat," her grandfather said with a knowing look. "And he isn't here. He got called away to Sandiville abruptly this morning and won't be able to make it back until tomorrow at the earliest."

"Ah," was all Meryl said.

"He said it was about a recent bout of plague hitting the village," her grandfather added. "I'd go out to help him but my bones aren't as spry as they once were."

A momentary frown flitted over Meryl's features and a sort of conspiratorial look was shared between the two of them... more the look between two people who share a familiar burden. Her grandfather shrugged in answer to a silent question asked that only they knew about and said

"You'd have to ask him, missy. I have no authority over it since I gave over the day to day running of things to him."

"I see," was all Meryl replied, she abruptly switched topics completely when she said

"The prospective bridegroom looks a good deal happier with his new choice of bride." She nodded her head over to where the happy couple were receiving the praise and well-wishes of one half of the room.

"You should go over and give them your own well wishes," her grandfather said looking sternly at her, his words carrying the tone of a suggestion but the weight of a command.

"Must I?" Meryl grumbled wryly, only half-joking.

"Show them there's no hard feelings. There aren't are there?" This last softer, and with concern.

"No, not anymore," Meryl said. "I'll admit that I was angry when I first got the news but that was more hurt pride than anything else."

"You've always had a lot of pride to hurt," her grandfather said, softening his harsh words with a smile.

"Well I've had to," she replied easily, gesturing to the room at large. "What else do I have?"

Milly blinked in startlement and shared a long look with Vash, but Meryl was going on

"Besides, there _are_ no hurt feelings. Considering how things fell out between the two of us, can you blame him for wanting the softer, more _malleable_ sister?"

Somehow, that doesn't sound like a compliment... Milly thought.

"You just aren't the settling down sort my dear," her grandfather said frankly. "You have too much of your sainted grandmother's spirit in you."

"They say it skips generations," Meryl quipped.

An older woman in the livery of the household coughed politely for Grandfather Stryfe's attention and he bowed his apologies and left to attend to the matter, leaving the three of them to their own devices for a moment.

"Gee Meryl, you and your grandfather seem to have a close relationship," Milly noted. Meryl's tone and body language had been much more natural around the elderly gentleman, it seemed that she'd let her guard slip too. That was much closer to the sort of behavior Milly expected to see around family.

"Yes we-" she was cut off.

"Why if it isn't little Meryl," a honeyed drawl came from behind Milly. That didn't sound like a compliment either, and by Millie's observance in the time she'd known her senior partner, Meryl had very firm and decisive ways of dealing with what offended her. Breifly the younger insurance agent wondered if she'd have to spend the rest of the evening holding her sempai off from attacking the other guests.

"I'd heard you were going to grace us all with your presence but I almost didn't recognize you," the young man continued. When Milly looked over to see who was speaking she was unsurprised to find that it was the handsome young man who'd arrived late with his elegant date. This must be the groom-to-be then.

"You look so... short." Meryl's eyes narrowed for a moment still she forced herself to relax, smile, and said with a cool yet even tone

"Congratulations on your nuptials. I wish you both well together."

"My sweetie and I are going to be very happy together!" the young woman enthused before the groom could get a word in edgewise. She had a sweet voice and wide batting eyes and Milly, who always liked to believe the best everyone, wasn't sure whether to call it innocent or contrived.

"We just have so much in common, we were practically made for each other, isn't that right darling?"

"Of course dearest heart," the man replied squeezing her hand with his free one. They both looked over at Meryl to see what she'd do or say.

"Good. Glad to hear it," was all (and this in an emotionless voice smooth as water with accompanying unreadable cop-eyes).

"Well that's a bit of a let down," the young bride remarked to her husband to be. "I thought for sure she'd blow up and provide our evenings entertainment."

"Most disappointing," he said lightly, with an air of aggrieved disappointment. "Especially after the sensation she caused the last time anyone lifted up the rock and let her crawl out."

Meryl smiled blandly, as if they were talking about nothing more than the weather or the price of Brussels sprouts on the market. Vash's eyebrows raised and he took a step to one side. He knew from long experience that it would not be long before they suffered the Wrath of Stryfe. The oblivious pair continued signing their death warrants.

"Still, I suppose we'll have to settle for a minor scandal with her showing up to the fete dressed like a ranch-hand," her sister said. "I nearly pointed her to the servants entrance by mistake."

"I thought for certain one of the little boy tomas-herders had wandered in on an errand," the young man seconded.

Uh-oh, Millie thought. That was one subject Meryl was sensitive about; her height and relative lack of... padding. This could get messy. Milly nearly died from shock on the spot when Meryl only gave another bland, innocuous smile.

"Ok-ay that's enough," Meryl said lightly. "You've had your fun. Why don't you two kids run along and rip the wings off flies or something?"

"You honestly thought you could scream things out in public, at a gathering of the _Families_ no less, in the manner you did the last time you were here and not ever have to answer for it?" her sister said sharply to her.

"Grudge much? That was ten years ago," Meryl riposted, her tone a dismissal.

"It doesn't matter," her sister replied. "Disaster doesn't begin to cover it."

"Debacle, not even close," her husband-to-be chimed in.

"It was a social Cheyrnobl... the fallout of which we are still paying for," her sister said in a tone that borderlined somewhere between condescending and offended. The groom was quick to add

"Not to put too fine a point on it but you-"

"Mister Korin," Meryl said sharply, her voice an authoritative whipcrack that had Vash snapping to attention by reflex. They knew that tone...

"I'm going to take the moral highroad here and not drag out your dirty laundry in public again," her words as sharp and precise as any surgical instrument. "But may I remind you precisely whose fault it was that _that_ particular social land-mine was set off? If you had been honest with me from the start..."

Meryl was obviously building up a rather large head of steam when she clamped her jaw shut and visibly collected herself

"I did not come here to argue with you, we all know who's at fault. You can lie to yourselves as well as your minions over there but don't think for a second that you can lie to _me_, I already know you both better than I want to. I came here to wish you both well and I have done that, if I and my guests are no longer welcome here, simply tell me so and we'll leave."

There was a long pregnant pause while the three stared each other down, you could have heard a pin drop in the room.

"You have an invitation," the bride said with ill grace. "So that means you're welcome. Stay if you must."

There was a nearly room-wide sigh of relief when the bell was rung for dinner, people proceeded by twos to the formal dining room and seated themselves where their placards indicated. Whatever crisis there had been involving plates was apparently resolved, for Vash was seated to Meryl's right and Milly seated on the other side of Meryl's grandfather just down the table.

The evening was nearly half over with, with any luck the second half would go more smoothly than the first had. Unfortunately, Vash and company weren't exactly well known for their streaks of good luck. But it was only dinner, what could go wrong?

_AH, chapter three at last, where it starts getting good. I'd like to acknowledge and thank everyone who's stuck with it thus far, and especially those who have been so kind as to leave a review for me. Thank you very much. Big shout outs to_** Aine of Knockaine, NocandNC, Lady Shadowcat****Lilaznbunny, My Magdalena**_ and _**x-animosity-x**_, for leaving behind a review to tell me what they thought. I appreciate it._

_I try to remember to post a chapter every Thursday (so I can milk the weekend crowd, hopefully) but if I forget and you just can't wait drop me an e-mail to prod my lazy butt into posting. See you in the next chapter._

_Nightheart_


	4. Members Only

Up towards the head of the table, Vash was, as Rem would have said, "a fish out of water."

What does anyone need with all these utensils for one meal anyway? he grumbled to himself. Three different forks, three spoons and two knives al laid out in state in the sides of the plates (there was more than one of those too) like some kind of mysterious cutlery Stonehenge, plus a bread knife arrayed on a nearby plate. There were at least four different kinds of drinking glasses including one that they just put water into.

And they kept taking his plates away too... granted they were replaced with different ones that had more food on them, but still; he wasn't finished eating and Rem had always told him to eat everything on his plate.

Fortunately, Meryl wasn't inclined to let him struggle on his own; at the start of every meal she indicated with a subtle gesture which was the right utensil to use for that course. What did anyone need with seven different courses anyway? It was bordering on ridiculous.

"...and after finally deciding on the napkins for the formal dinner before hand we had to order from three towns over and when they arrived they were all creme instead of eccru! It put my table right off I tell you," the chatty bride to be was rambling on. From the look on Meryl's face her patience had worn thin long ago and she was hanging on by a thread. Vash thought it might be a good idea to remove the girl from the temptation presented by the abundance of sharp pointy objects.

"So of course we had to send them back," the young woman finished.

"But they're practically the same color," Meryl said, looking at her sister like she'd lost her mind. It was the first time she'd spoken in the conversation since the rather interesting discussion in the drawing room.

"They are not!" the bride said, sounding shocked. "Anyone with _any_ taste and discernment would swiftly realize that the subtle shadings of difference in color would create a jarring note in what should be a harmonious symphony."

"But... they're still practically the same color," Meryl replied. "And I can't believe you ordered monogrammed silk napkins for a meal that you're going to eat once and then put them away forever in the first place."

"Are you questioning my taste?!" the bride demanded sharply.

"I'm questioning your practicality, but I just remembered that you don't have any," Meryl replied just as sharply. "Ordering them in the first place was extravagant, sending them back because the subtle shadings were a little off and not making do was just plain wasteful."

"Well, you're only married once," her sister replied with a smug look. "And _some of us_ aren't even that." She was looking pointedly at Meryl with a smug little face that Meryl probably wanted to wipe off with a nice, hard slap.

To her credit, Meryl didn't respond to that barb either, but there was a subtle tension about her shoulders and Vash saw her surreptitiously curl her hand into a fist beneath the table.

She's gonna explode, he thought. But was amazed to see her, yet again, force herself to relax and swallow the insult with her wine. Meryl just wasn't the type to grit her teeth and smile, for as long as he had known her she had very firm and decisive ways of dealing with that which offended her. To be honest, Vash had always considered her hair-trigger temper to be a sign of some fundamental lack of control; he was now coming to realize however that perhaps her temper stemmed not from an inability to control herself but as a reaction to always being overly controlled for the earlier part of her life.

"It's been such a long time since you've been home dear," her step-mother (who was only maybe five or six years older than Meryl herself!) said with a sparkling smile. "Do tell us what has been going on in your life."

Meryl was caught off-guard by the sudden interest.

"Going on?" she repeated cautiously.

"Yes," her step-sister quickly seconded. "You said you worked in insurance... any seeds of office romance blossoming in the desert?"

"Not as such," Meryl admitted. "In my experience most men are too intimidated by a woman who not only makes a better salary than they do but graduated magna cum laude from a top university to boot. I call it the H-bomb... the second I mention "I graduated from Halberd University" on the first date there's never a second."

"You could have went to finishing school," her mother pointed out with what was obviously a well-worn argument.

"Yeah, the place they send you to in order to finish you off," Meryl replied scornfully. "No thanks, besides 'proper young men' are vastly over-rated; most of them are either callow youths with big plans and no sense to enact them, or arrogant fat-heads with an overinflated opinion of themselves swaggering about like peacocks hoping to attract the best hen."

And all of that said in Meryls usual brisk and business-like manner. I think she's enjoying herself, Vash thought with an internal headshake. Indeed, Meryl was calm and unflappable in the face of indignant noises from the young men.

"My my, you're as blunt and offensive as ever Meryl," the young man who, even though they hadn't been officially introduced Vash was betting was that ex-fiancee. "Why don't you continue, I don't think you've offended everyone in the room yet."

"Give me time, I just got here," Meryl said lightly with dry humor. "Besides, I don't actually spend much time in the office."

"You work in insurance," her mother replied. "I assumed that you were stuck behind a desk, filing requests and pushing papers."

"...er," Meryl said eloquently, obviously caught short about something. "Well... I'm not actually in the claims department."

"Then what, precisely do you do? Door to door?" her sister demanded in that so-superior 'I've never had to work a day in my life' tone.

"I'm class A-1 Disaster Investigator," Meryl said with a mixture of pride and defiance. "That's the best there is. I get the really tough jobs; level three and above dust-storms, sand-shakes, bandit gangs, -worm and rippler attacks, anything with a truly massive level of destruction. I spend most of my time out in the Outlands, in among the deadly outlaws and the steamer robberies."

Half of the table (mother, sister and ex-boyfriend included) looked absolutely aghast. Meryl seemed to be enjoying their level of discomfort her enjoyment was cut short however by a cool, cutting voice from the doorway.

"No daughter of mine would ever soil her hands _or_ the family name and reputation by involving herself with such dangerous riff-raff. Oh yes, I called your boss at Bernardelli's to find out precisely what shenanigans you've been up to and you've a lot to account for young lady."

The man who was winding up to give his (_fully grown_) daughter a firm dressing down as if she were an adolescent caught out after curfew was short and stocky but carried himself with air air of authority and command that more than merely bordered on arrogance. Many of Meryl's features obviously came from him; she had his black hair, his complexion was duskier than hers was but they had the same brow, nose and eye-shape. Meryl was smaller and much slighter than he was, possibly inherited from a small mother. But it was clear on a first glance that they were very obviously related, this was probably the dreaded father then.

Meryl gave a small, carefully hidden sigh, fidgeted with her manicured hands for a moment with her head bent down and her eyes in her lap then steeled herself, lifted her chin and met the strange man's eyes squarely without a flicker or a flinch. It looked like she wasn't breathing and the entire room stilled yet again as the two of them were frozen in tableau. Neither of them were smiling.

I wish I knew what was going on, Vash thought. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife and serve up with sauce and he had no idea why. It was clear to even an idiot (which despite all pretenses, Vash was _not_) that the two of them had a long history between the two of them. The silence stretched like salt-water taffy until Meryl took a small breath and in an even tone said

"Father. Welcome home, perhaps you would like to join the party for dinner; I had heard that the household was under the understanding that you would not return in time to make it but I'm certain that there can be room made for you." Meryl was smiling her super-friendly, super-_fake_ insurance-girl smile, the one she wore when she was forced to deal with people she did not necessarily _like_ but needed to impress for the sake of her work.

"I have not said my peace young lady," he said with a severe frown directed solely at Meryl.

I recognize that look, Vash thought, a little creeped-out to see it on the face of a middle aged man instead of his short, fiery-tempered virago.

"Then do so when you won't inconvenience your guests," Meryl replied, her tone slightly dismissive. There was a sudden feeling of dread hanging about the room, as if Meryl's reply had quite possibly set match to a fuse and everyone was waiting to see if the fuse-line was going to connect to the keg or not.

"Now you see here-"

"Daddy!" Mellisandra said with a smile that was too bright and a voice that was too sugary sweet. "You won't believe what a great deal I got on a dress for Meryl!"

"Excuse me, _dress_?" Meryl said in tones of non-plussed surprise.

"Well of course _dress_ Meryl," Mellisandra said in honeyed tones that brooked no argument. "You _are_ my sister, and now that you're attending the wedding, you have to be a bridesmaid."

"I said nothing of taking part in the wedding," Meryl said firmly. "I said that I would attend, I meant as a guest."

"You're sibling-kin, and unmarried at that," her sister replied in a that's-that tone. "That make you automatically a bridesmaid."

"Who makes up these rules anyway?" Meryl demanded of the universe at large.

The subject was seized upon with fervent relief as another chair was brought for the head of the table for the man of the house to eat at. Meryl maintained that she was perfectly happy to stand in the crowd wishing them well, and they didn't need to go to all of the trouble of making a dress for her.

"Nonsense," her step-mother said with a conspiratorial look shared with your youngest daughter. "It's only right that you should be part of the wedding."

"Yeah," her step-sister chimed in. "It may be the only time this family gets to see you at the altar."

"Count on it," she muttered darkly.

"Gee Meryl," Millie piped up cheerfully. "Won't it be fun for you to get all dressed up?"

"No," Meryl replied succinctly.

"Your fitting is at noon tomorrow," the Lady of the House informed her.

"I'd rather be hanged," Meryl said pleasantly. Vash suppressed a chuckle; she sounded like she meant it.

"That's quite enough sauce out of you missy," her father replied sharply, from over a cut of his meat. His tone was premtory and autocratic, exactly the wrong sort of tone to take with a woman like Meryl.

"Tomorrow, you'll go to the dressmaker, have your fitting, and afterwards you'll confine yourself to activities that reflect credibly on that upbringing I know you were given."

Uh-oh, Vash thought with a wince. He's trying to Lay Down the Law. 

Any previous attempts at doing so by any outside party, including Knives, had met with the rough edge of her tongue. A pissed off Meryl Stryfe was a force of nature; her temper was as explosive as the worst sand-geyser, her words could flay and sting as easily as the grit from a level one sandstorm could blast the flesh from ones body.

But the man was her father... perhaps this would be the one time where Meryl would bow her head and acquiesce. Family after all, changed all the rules.

"There will be no more of your unbecoming attitude at this or any other time," he continued, thumping the table once sharply to punctuate his decree.

Meryl was listening with an utterly unreadable face so Vash couldn't tell what she was going to do next. Had it been anyone else but her father, Vash's money would have been on the Short One committing bodily harm upon his person.

"You'll attire yourself appropriately," her father was going on. "We are not on the barbarous frontier. We'll discuss later the possibility of you being allowed to continue this career nonsense of yours. You'll re-learn to speak in a manner in keeping with the dignity of our House and you will, by God, start acting like a proper, well-bred, respectable member of this family."

Meryl studied him in the silence that followed his decree, her face a mask of indifference, for a few moments then shook her head in sadness. Her tone sounded regretful as she said

"I had hoped that you might have mellowed your narrow-minded, insensitive, bigoted attitude into something that was a little more accepting but I can see now that you're still the same rigid, unbending, fascist dictator you always have been; raining down judgment upon all of us like some kind of thundering demagogue."

Jaws dropped. Eyes bugged out in shock. For once people were so shocked that they couldn't even lean to their nearest neighbors and whisper amongst themselves about her behavior.

"You will not accept anything outside of the molds you've made," she continued. Her voice. instead of gaining in volume as it usually did, was growing softer.

"It's clear that you will never accept the life I've chosen to live and I know that as long as I remain here you will do everything in your power to make me bend until I fit. I had hoped to make a reconciliation between us but not at that cost. I will remain who I am, I will continue to follow the path I believe in. I'm still your daughter, you are still my father, but neither you nor anyone else will change me save as I choose to be changed."

"This is unacceptable!" her father roared, rising violently to his feet. "You are my daughter! You'll dance to the tune I call or I swear I'll--"

"You'll what?" Meryl demanded sharply. "I am no longer of your House, I've renounced my right-born name. I am _far_ beyond the age of consent. In th eyes of the Law I am my own woman and have been for years."

Her father slammed back into his seat with a frown that should have left the scent of scorched flesh in its wake. Meryl continued

"If I am no longer welcome here, it will be a pity, but I and my friends will pay our respects and leave. You've only to say the words."

She met his gaze directly, a challenge. Vash somehow got the feeling that she was almost wishing he would throw her out.

Her father's eyes went from being ablaze with anger to a look that was coldly calculating. Meryl's figurative guard went up perceptibly.

"You're my daughter," he said slowly. "And still a part of this family no matter how estranged you have become. You should always be welcomed at your true home, and there is no reason we cannot still reconcile."

Meryl looked for a moment like she would have argued with that last but held her tongue and nodded him to continue. She looked like she trusted him about as far as one could throw a horse one-handed, though. Vash thought it was sad that she had to be so wary around family.

Not like I have any real room to throw stone in that department though, Vash thought ruefully. He and his brother had been estranged for the better part of a century, and we even now in a very strain reconciliation that rested on his brother's faith in following a gaeas placed on him while he'd been sleeping swearing not to kill a human, or by inaction allow a human to come to be killed. (He could defend himself and his friends however, as long as it didn't inerfere with the first stricture).

"Provided..." he qualified, holding up a cautionary finger (Meryl's face reflected an "I knew it" attitude). "That you comport yourself in a manner reflecting the dignity of this family and our social rank."

"Comport?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow. "I never... or rarely, behave in an improper manner father."

"That is a matter of opinion," he said darkly. "You're nefarious dealings with an outlaw for instance..." he let the sentence hang while the table buzzed at this new tidbit and he looked smug.

"Have you even read any of my reports?" Meryl replied in in the chill tones of a college professor forced to deal with a very young, cocky student who was trying to bluff his way through the assignment he obviously had not read. She nodded her head when he paused and added

"I thought not. Mister Bernardelli wouldn't release such documents without a court supeona and even though you may have the district judge in your pocket you have no actual charges so I imagine that you've just taken specious accounts and blown them up with the worst possible meanings. Really I'd expect such petty behavior out of boys who don't yet know better but you're old enough to be my father."

"You'll not disrespect me at my own table missy or by heaven I'll drag you over my knee."

Meryl seemed to agree that she might have gone a trifle too far with that last remark for she sidestepped again

"And precisely what outlaw are we discussing?"

"You mean there's more than one?" her sister said, looking like a cat that had found the cream. Meryl and her father both delivered a quelling look to the girl for interrupting their oh-so-civilized verbal dissection of each other.

"Your boss informed me that you had been assigned to track down and keep a twenty-four hour surveillance on the infamous Vash the Stampede."

"True," Meryl said brightly, smiling.

"You don't deny it?" he questioned.

"Naturally not. It's my job," she replied. "Besides..." Meryl paused to consider her words carefully.

"He's my friend," she said simply at last.

Her father looked like he was getting a massive headache and the rest of the table was swiftly using up their stored supply of shock to their sensibilities.

Vash was alternately warmed and dismayed that she was so open about their unusual friendship. Part of him wanted her to reveal that he was traveling at her side openly so that he wouldn't be forced into the whole rigamarole of figuring out and remembering his secret identity of the week; but most of him hoped she'd keep things under wraps. It would be very bad for word to get around that there was sixty billion double dollars running around this county, especially in the midst of a wedding... that could be bad. Just ask the owner of all of the bars in the middle of no-where that had been completely blown away by the bullets of bounty-hunter gangs... now picture that only with white chiffon and a frosted wedding cake. Her family would never forgive her for it. To his relief Meryl quickly changed the subject

"Who I associate with in the course of my work has little bearing on the current subject Father," Meryl said briskly. "We've both agreed that as long as I behave in a manner that harms no-one and is in keeping with the..." she searched for a word. "_Exalted rank_ of this family I'm free to stay along with my guests. Any other issues you may have can certainly wait until after dinner."

Indeed, dessert was already there. It was...

Wow, that must have taken the cooking staff a while to construct, Vash thought in amazement. It was a miniturization to scale of the vineyards and the mansion as viewed from that spot in the road they'd stopped at earlier that day all done up in chilled sugared fruits, whipped creams, and crumbly baked goods with sweets.

With a final toast, saluting the health and happiness of the future couple, the torturous meal was at last over with.

Vash would have joined the men in cigars and port while Millie and Meryl withrew to the drawing room with the women but he saw Meryl sneak out with her partner at a moments inattention from the crowd and skulk down the hallway well away from the guests and further unpleasant scenes for that evening. He waited until the attention of the room was elsewhere and followed after them, he wasn't really up to entertaining a room full of aristocrats if he didn't have to.

Meryl showed him and Millie back to where their rooms were located. Vash already knew where he was going, because he hadn't survived this long without having a fine eye for detail. That eye caught the worried look on Millie's face and he imagined that the two of them were probably going to be up for most of the night talking about whatever it was girls talked about.

"That's a relief," Meryl said, voicing the thought that they all were thinking. "I'd hate to think I'd wasted that steamer fare for nothing. I thought for certain he was going to toss me out. Strange..."

She frowned, apparently thinking hard on something, then dismissed it.

"Well, after all that fun I'm wrung out. Let's get some sleep eh?"

"Good-night," Vash said as he retired to the suite that he shared with his brother. He paused at the threshold as Meryl was turning away to go with Millie to find her own rest and thought about calling her back, but then he realized that he couldn't think of anything to say. "I'm sorry your family are such backstabbing vipers" was definitely out. So was "hey, I'm not doing anything right now, let's go blow up the west wing of this place!" Nah, knowing his luck this place was insured by Bernardelli's and Meryl would be duty bound to stop him.

Knives was sleeping, or pretending to sleep, when he slipped in. Vash was more than a little glad of that, after the trying evening he'd had, being subject to the scrutiny, veiled comments and insults of a room full of the haute couture of Gunsmoke, Vash just wanted a little time to himself to unwind. If this was what he felt like and he didn't even know any of them or care what they thought of him, he could only imagine how Meryl might be feeling right then. No wonder she hadn't wanted to come home.

After having met her family and been forced to spend time among her peers (Vash would call it a very safe bet that Meryl had never called any of _those_ people her friends) a great deal more of the puzzle that was Meryl became clear to him. He'd thought Meryl simply naturally self-contained, possibly from growing up as a very intelligent and precocious child (intelligent children, from his hundred-years worth of observations, were very often separated from the better portion of their peer-groups by that very intelligence). He'd also hypothesized some form of detachment; whether from losing one or both parents at a young age, or some kind of mental or emotional abuse. He'd thought that perhaps her mother or father had been emotionally indifferent or perhaps expected great things and only rewarded her when she excelled forcing a young Meryl to push herself to overacheive in order to win that love or affection she needed.

He'd been right, for the most part, on that last. He'd taken the measure of her father that evening and decided that he did not like what he'd seen. A cold man; maybe not devious, but certainly calculating. He could easily see him as the sort of man that might use his young daughters craving for affection and approval to try to force her into the shape of the person he wanted her to be. It was a credit to his short girl's will and determination that she obviously succeeded in evading his plans for her; possibly through sheer stubbornness. Tractable was not a word one would ever apply to Meryl Stryfe, and he was beginning to see that this was a good thing for her.

Vash privately vowed to himself that the next time he'd done something "noteworthy" he'd let her rant and scream at him as much as she wanted; she'd more than earned the privilege of a little venting, from what he'd seen. Only a woman with as much pride and self-reliance as Meryl could make through a world determined to break her. Of course she'd stay strong in the face of Vash and all of the strangeness that followed him around; she was made of stern stuff. Perhaps...

Knives would never go for it, Vash decided reluctantly.

Meryl shut the door behind her in the small room she shared with Millie with a feeling of world-lifting relief. It hadn't went as badly as she'd been expecting after all. She'd been partly expecting that they'd take one look at her and chuck her out the gates like trash.

Instead I was stared at like a freak, whispered about, insulted to my face and had to put up with their 'oh my now who let that in here' attitudes. Still she had to admit that it could have went a lot worse. Even her argument with her father wasn't as bad as she'd thought it was going to be; the debacle that had happened prior to her leaving was only mentioned in passing. She'd have thought they'd have made a bigger deal out of it, or at least tried to rub her face in it a little.

Maybe they've realized that they were wrong, she thought. It had a spark of hope to it, but only a spark; her cynical side was telling her that either there was something else they were after, or they were saving it for ammunition later. She turned her thought away from that for the time being and the other thing that worried her popped up to take it's place. She needed some privacy to think and get things straight in her head, and for some reason she did her best thinking in the shower.

"Hey Millie," she said tiredly. "Do you mind if I have the first shower? I just want to go to bed after all of that."

"Sure Meryl," Millie said, looking at her friend with concern. "Are you sure you don't want a bath."

"No, I'd rather just clean off and go to bed. Besides, there's something I want to do in the morning; a quick trip by tomas-back to Sandiville," Meryl said brusquely. "There's something there I want to look into. If I'm wrong and everything is fine... well and good. If my suspicions are right..."

"Suspicions Meryl?" Millie questioned. Meryl just shook her head and said

"I'm probably just making up paper tigers," with that she plucked a towel out of the linen closet and closed the water-closet door firmly behind her. She adjusted the flow and temperature on the shower until it was just right, but her fears and suspicions followed her even into this refuge.

I hope I'm just being over cautious. He said that it was under the best shielding. He promised faithfully that that thing wouldn't ever harm anyone but... well what if he's wrong? I don't like the look of those new men hanging about; I know that they're with the groom's party but they don't seem very trustworthy to me. 

Meryl was learning from long hard experience that the way things looked on the surface wasn't always (or hell, even _often_) reliable. Just look at Vash, the Vash she knew liked to loaf around the house all day eating donuts and playing with children in the street, so harmless that he wouldn't hurt a fly; the rest of the world "knew" that Vash the Stampede was a ruthless murderer who would slaughter the innocent just for fun. No, Meryl had gone for too long making snap judgments based on the surface of things, it was well past time she started actually listening to her own intuition and keeping a more open mind.

Both my intuition and my logical self don't like the looks of those men on the grooms side one bit, she thought with a small shiver. Scattered in among the gentlemen and dandies of Society here to attend the wedding had been men that had truly put Meryls back up; they didn't even look particularly out of place, they were dressed the same way as an ordinary gentleman, carried on credible conversations about money and weather, but there was just the faint aura of menace and watchfulness that Meryl hadn't liked.

Maybe her mind was creating phantom dangers in the absence of any real danger due to Vash, maybe she'd just become an adrenaline junkie and was making things up out of unconscious need for excitement but her gut was telling her that there was something going on.

I can feel it. Father would never have missed a formal dinner of this magnitude, with as many of the important branches of the family as were there, over some trifling business matter. And a plague in Sandiville? It sounds _way_ too suspicious for my liking. 

It reminded her all-too-much of a case she'd taken on a a B-5 Disaster Investigator, the case that had given her a major jump in promotion because it had been far more dangerous than anyone had predicted. It had seemed like a routine mission; there had been an "outbreak" of "plague" in a small town in the Malipais Sector, the place had been sealed off for quarantine and no-one was let in or out. Bernardelli's had sent Meryl in to assess the risk of liability for one of the Socieity's pet companies and had stumbled across a large-scale organized crime syndicate cover-up.

Mister Mori-Korin and his father own and run Korin Corporation, one of the top ten pharmaceutical corporations on Gunsmoke, Meryl mused. I know for a fact that they also have their fingers in a whole lot of other pies besides their own; they've gotten their own people elected to political offices, as judges and in among the Federal Marshals as well. I also know that one of their subsidiaries is Longshot Corp, the very same arms and munitions company that supplies half of the federal Marshals with their military issue weapons. If they got hold of the secret to make more places like this they're certainly more than unscrupulous enough to do what they want and damn the consequences. I just hope my family hasn't decided to do the same. 

If she looked at it objectively, Meryl was connecting dots and adding up an equation that made all too much sense... except that it came to a conclusion that her heart really, really didn't want to believe. Surely her father would never countenance such a thing. Surely not.

I'll take a ride down there tomorrow and see what I can see. I'll bring my kit and know for certain. if it is what I suspect... 

She wanted to avoid that for as long as possible, because if it was as she suspected, Meryl wouldn't be able to let it go; she'd be forced by her own conscience to do something she really didn't want to do.

Even if it is what I fear, perhaps they aren't aware of it, I'll inform them and then give them the opportunity to make it right, she compromised with herself. Perhaps I'm worrying over nothing. 

She finished her nightly routine of brushing her teeth and washing her face before the mirror in the bathroom then climbed into her sleeping clothes. One of the maids had already laid out a raw silk nightgown for her and for once Meryl wasn't going to quibble about her own things being nice enough for her. Millie was already crashed in her own bed, snoring softly from sleep.

Ah! This is much more like it, she thought, sighing in bliss as she slid between the 600 thread count egyptian cotton sheets that were softer and smoother than anything she'd felt in her life. The mattress beneath her was soft and springy like a cloud brought down from the sky and gathered up under the sheets. They just didn't make bed sets like this on the frontier and the bed itself was cushioned by a pure feather-down duvet, the pillows also stuffed with down. Only the best.

A girl could get used to this kind of luxury, she thought sleepily. I may be too spoiled to want to go back home. But then she realized that thought was silly; of course she wanted to leave this place, and as soon as possible too. All the luxury in the world couldn't make a woman like her want to give up her freedom.

She closed her eyes and drifted off. Her last thought before dreaming was to wonder what Vash thought of her little family reunion.


	5. There Goes the Neighborhood

Meryl had always been an early riser, not necessarily a morning person perhaps, but all of her life she'd been in the habit of getting up around dawn. As a child she'd been woken by a servant or governess on her fathers orders. The man's life ran like a well-oiled machine, structured, dignified, and he was not a man who would not countenance his children becoming lazy lay-abouts. In college Meryl had been in the habit of taking her classes early in the morning so that she could work in the afternoon and then study in the evening, as an adult the habit hadn't changed due to the hours the office kept, and even on the wild frontier Meryl was still accustomed to rising early; she had a lot to do in a day. So she was up a little before dawn, wishing to make it out of the Grounds before the house woke up. She dressed quickly and quietly in the dark, packed a small bag with a long-disused analysis kit and some other useful tools and shook her best friend and partner awake.

"C'mon, we need to get going," she whispered, shaking Milly gently. "I don't want to wake anyone."

Millie rose reluctantly as ever. The dear girl was not what anyone would call an early riser, which surprised Meryl since Milly came from farmer stock and those were some people who lived to see the crack of dawn. The two of them dressed and snuck down into the kitchens to "borrow" a small sack of portable lunch items, then Meryl showed Millie one of her favorite back exits; the one that was out of sight of any of the main rooms or bedrooms in the main house, leading along a wall to a narrow passageway between two stone buildings, past the Yard where the Tomases were trained for riding, and on to the stables.

The head hostler was already up and at his business of course, field and farmhands kept farm hours; up at dawn and work till dusk. Meryl cast a lingering, regretful look at one particular pen until the man straightened from his work and spied her, his aged face lit up with pleasure.

"Miss Meryl!" he said, in real delight. "I'd heard rumor you were going to be returning at last, it's great to see you lass!"

"It's great to see you too Mister Clyde," Meryl said with a warm smile. A handshake wouldn't do for the vigorous old man and the short insurance girl was wrapped up in a rib-cracking hug. When she was at last released the man asked

"What can I get for you and your lovely friend?"

"Oh, where are my manners? This is Millie, my partner and best friend," Meryl said introducing the two of them then got on to matters. "We need two tomases for a long ride this morning."

The man didn't evidence much more curiosity than a raised eyebrow at her request but obviously knew well enough not to ask questions; what he didn't find out now, he wouldn't have to lie about later.

"Well, none of these beasties are a match for dear old Temper," he said heartily, but with a look of pitying commiseration on his face as he caught Meryl looking again at a particular stall. "Haven't had the heart to put a new beastie in old Temper's stall, not with the way things fell out for you missy."

Meryl smiled a little sadly at that and said

"You don't have to hold it empty on my account, I probably won't be here for much longer than it takes to give my well-wishes at the wedding. But you're right; it just doesn't seem the same in here without him."

The man ordered a nearby boy, groggily rubbing sleep from his eyes to take out Seftu and Corth and get them tacked up. He was obeyed with alacrity while Meryl filled up a water pack and some canteens to add to the saddle packs. Millie and Meryl, long accustomed to long tomas rides settled into the saddles and were off just as the sun was halfway above the horizon.

"Meryl?" Millie asked once they were well on thier way down a dusty trail wending its way through the different kinds of orchards laid out in neat rows along their plantation.

"Yes Millie?" Meryl asked, turning her head to regard her friend.

"I got the feeling that you didn't want anyone else along on this trip..." she said hesitantly.

"You're right, this is one trip I'd prefer to make alone, except that that would be foolish. There quite a bit of desert between us and Sandiville and there are people who would be more than willing to attack a lone traveler, especially when that traveler has a high chance of being wealthy. Lots of rich people here as well as hands willing to spend their salary as soon as they can make it."

"Is that the only reason?" Millie questioned.

"No, I'd also like you along for support. I'm not sure what I'm going to find when I get there and would just as soon have another pair of eyes... and another pair of guns if it comes to that. I don't think it will but there's no saying for certain."

"Are we on a secret mission?"

"No, private business," Meryl replied enigmatically.

"If you needed another pair of guns we should have asked Mister Vash to come along," Millie argued.

"No way," Meryl said flatly. "He's enough of a lighting rod as it is; I don't want to add the possibility of glycerin and other explosive material. Besides, he deserves a break; there aren't likely to be any bounty hunters brave enough to risk the potent and long-reaching wrath of my family by causing a stir at one of the biggest formal events this place has hosted in years. Vash will have a rare opportunity to take a breather without having to worry about being ambushed, and after all he's been through recently I think he deserves it. He should be fine back there as long as he doesn't let slip his real identity."

They rode in silence for a while longer, the suns gradually gaining in height and intensity the air went from cool the tepid to warm as the pinks and oranges faded from along the horizon. It wouldn't be long before the scouring eyes opened up; meaning that the heat would become so intense that it would feel like a suffocating blanket, sucking the breath and moisture out of the body.

"We've been riding for almost an hour and we still haven't reached the edge of your farm, this property is pretty big!" Millie noted in awestruck tones.

"It's big alright," Meryl agreed. "It takes a lot to run it."

"I grew up on a farm too, I had no idea that our backgrounds were so similar."

"I'm not sure about that, I'm sure you've guessed by now that this place isn't a tiny family-run farm... no offense or anything. The Trevino's might run it but for a lot of the manual labor they outsource, bring in desperate migrant workers who will work for a pittance of a wage and then let them go when they are done with them. That was another thing that my father and I do not agree on. I have this odd notion that people deserve to be treated well and make a decent wage so that they can support their families." Meryls voice was laced with heavy irony, she clearly did not approve of the way her father ran things.

"You and your father... you don't act much like me and mine do," Millie said hesitantly.

"No, I imagine we don't," Meryl said and left it at that.

Millie looked sideways at her partner and friend. Vash was right, Meryl played her cards too close. There were obviously more than a few unresolved issues between Meryl and her family.

Another long silence stretched in which they finally reached the border of Trevino Vineyards. A lone dusty trail wended its way through scrubby brush, cactus patches and gritty hard-packed dirt and Meryl started the two of them down it without comment. After another hour, in which the weather shot to sweltering, they reached a place where the road widened out and Meryl abruptly reigned her tomas to a stop.

"We're almost there," she said to Millie. "If you don't mind, I'd like to circle around that rock outcrop over there and get a better look before we ride in."

"Sure," Millie said agreeably. "Why so cautious though?"

"Experience. I's rather have done something like this unnecessarily than not to have done it and later wish that I had."

"Makes sense... sort of," Meryl smiled whitely at her friend and the two of them led the tomas over to the shade of the rocks, watering them and giving them a rest while Meryl climbed to the top of one pile and nestled herself in a cook of a nearby taller pile, hidden away from observers on the road and indiscernible (even in white) from the town. Out of a pack she hauled out a very heavy, very expensive pair of sighters; electronic digital-image binoculars that could not only zoom in and out feet away but see at night, give exact distance and range in a little screen to the side, switch to heat or infra-red sight, take pictures in any of its modes and a host of other things as well.

"They'd be more useful if they weren't so damned heavy," she muttered as she set up the special stand for them. "As well as being tetchy as all get-out; hit them wrong and you have send them in for repairs."

"Wow!" Millie said, when Meryl handed them over to her partner to play with after she was done. "This is a nifty toy! Where did you find something like this?"

"I know a guy who knows a guy," Meryl said smugly. "Fancies himself a bit of an "Indiana Jones" kind of fellow. He actually runs around in khakis and a fedora if you can believe it. I tipped him off about that one place we found that first time with..."

"Nicholas, Meryl. It's okay. You don't have to walk on eggshells on my account," Millie said.

"Well, you could say he was grateful... you could also say that the suns rise in the west. He sent me these (and a few other useful items I might have mentioned) as a token of his appreciation; I sent him out there because I figured since it was closed down there was only so much trouble he could get into. He seems to have hit paydirt anyway; I saw a picture of him on the cover of Time Magazine a while ago." All of this while they packed away the special sighters.

"Well, I don't see anything overtly suspicious," Meryl said. "The situation looks normal enough. Unfortunately I don't know the actual area well enough to make a perfectly accurate judgment; they could be undercover, or dressed in plain clothes."

"Who could be, Meryl?" Millie asked curiously.

"I think that the groom might have brought along a few extra guests who aren't on the list; they might just be here to scope out the area or they could be up to something. I don't know and we'll have to be careful if we ask around. First off let's just ride in and see what we can see."

The town wasn't much to write home about; in fact it looked a lot like every other one-tomas town they'd visited in recent years; a single unpaved dusty mainstreet with stores and shops lining either side of it; a grocer, a dry goods, a butcher, a baker, a post office and stationers, a saddlery, a gun-shop and the inevitable saloon. There was a well in the middle of town, some houses on the outskirts and that was about it.

"Where to first Meryl?" Millie asked as they rode quietly down one side of the mainstreet.

"I think we should check the well first," Meryl said, leading the two horses over to the well and trough in the center of town. "Pretend you're watering them, but use the stuff from our packs just in case." Millie looked a question at her friend but acquiesced with a shrug. Meanwhile under cover of fiddling with her canteen, Meryl pulled out two vials and a sampling strip, then pulled up a bucket of well-water.

"Done," she said after a moment. "It'll take a while to know anything so lets keep looking."

Millie looked sideways at her partner as she bent to tie her shoe... only Meryl didn't wear the kind of boots that one tied on, instead she seemed to be surruptiously doing something under the cover of her cloak. There was a small whir and a click as she took a picture of something.

"Hey Millie, go stand over there," Meryl said brightly. "Back up a little... little more... perfect!" Meryl took a picture with a small hand-held camera. "Okay now let's get one over here... isn't this an exciting vacation?"

Millie tried not to look puzzled until she saw the small knot of observers sitting on a nearby stoop out of the corner of her eye. Meryl was even inventing some kind of cover story... she must be worried about something.

Meryl took several more picutres of Millie in differnt places and Millie figured that her friend was just using the tourist bit as a ruse to get pictures of whatever it was that interested her without arousing suspicions or curiousity from passersby. She also took several more pretenses to scuff at the ground for something then gestured that the two of them should step into a nearby diner with the words

"Since we're here, let's have lunch."

"Okay Sempai," Millie said brightly.

"...heard that Maffie Owen's little boy Zeks caught sick with it shortly afterward," one old matron at the counter was saying to her best friend. Meryl sat down at the counter next to them and the waitress, a tired-looking woman with bleach-blond hair and a cigarette hanging from her mouth asked what they'd have.

"We'll take our order to go please," Meryl said immediately. "Two specials."

Millie looked again at her partner in puzzlement but shrugged. She probably had her reasons for doing whatever it was she was doing.

"Has the doc been able to figure out what it is that's making all the kids so sick?" the second questioned and Meryl frowned, then quickly covered it with a smile.

"No," said the first. "He's stumped. Said he's never seen anything like it before."

"Odd that it only seems to be affecting kids and the elderly," the second noted over her bite of apple pie. Meryl nodded, looking momentarily grim and pushed away from the table taking the lunches with her.

"Come-on," she said briskly. "I'd like to have a word with the town doc, then we'll have to head back. I think I've got all I need here anyway."

The visit to the tiny infirmary was a little unsettling. There were a lot of sick children in the beds, old men and women slouched in chair and reclining on benches.

"Howdy," said the doctor, a slim goat-visaged man with kindly yet piercing eyes.

"Hello, I'm from the Bernardelli Insurance Society. This is Millie Thompson my partner. We'd like to ask you a few questions if we might..."

From there Meryl proceeded to glean the man for information in her usual thorough and efficient manner, taking everything down in her notebook for later reference. She concentrated mainly on the illness sweeping through the town; who were the people afflicted, what area of town did they live in, what activities did they pursue. Then went on to get exact symptoms in all of the patients, what body and blood types did they have, which systems were affected first or worst and so on. It wasn't until half an hour later that she seemed satisfied with her questions and thanked the man for his time.

"Millie," Meryl said softly on their way to pick up their tomases from the nearby trough. Her voice was soft but her tone urgent. "We have a tail at four o' clock and another at seven. Observer on the roof."

"I see them," Millie said tightly. "I told you we should have brought Mister Vash; if nothing else he makes a great distraction."

"Or a decoy," she agreed.

"What should we do? If we ignore them will they go away do you think?"

"Hard to say," Meryl said after a pause to consider. "They might. I doubt they have standing orders to eliminate people out of hand on a suspicion, and I took pretty good care to hide my real purpose here. They probably just have orders to tail all newcomers into town and keep an eye on them. Our guests must be expecting trouble. Nah. We'll keep up the ruse; I doubt they'll have an ambush laid out to exterminate us in the direction we're going."

"Exterminate Meryl?" Millie said, alarmed.

I knew she'd been playing her cards too close to her chest! Millie thought. For whatever personal reason she might have, Meryl felt the need to keep quiet about whatever this little side-investigation was about. She'd kept very hush-hush on the details, even with Millie, and Meryl told her everything.

I'll bet it has something to do with her family, Millie thought. Meryl is worried about them for some reason. I can't fathom why; with all that fertile farmland and that enormous mansion and all those silk dresses and things the business has to be doing well... But Meryl wasn't in the habit of worrying over nothing either; and she certainly wouldn't go out of her way to do whatever it was she was doing without having a solid reason for it.

"Meryl, you should tell me what's going on," Millie said.

"I will later. I don't want you getting caught up in it if things go bad. If you don't know anything about that thing then chances are they'll just let you go... Although with Mori-Korin's boys I'm not so sure about _that_ anymore. Look, if anyone asks you anything just tell them that I came to show you around. In fact... yeah..."

Meryl raised her voice a little, for the benefit of the people following her.

"You might not believe it my friend, but you are wandering the streets of my rebellious youth!"

"Rebellious Meryl?" Millie questioned, trying to take her cue from her partner and falling in with the act. They'd had to bluff their way out of some tight situations before so they were accustomed to working things out in the spur of the moment.

"Well let's just say that when I wanted to get out and experience something other than academia I'd sneak out to the stables, saddle up Temper and sneak away here for a couple of hours. You'll never believe it but I was a bit of a wild child..." and Meryl went on to spin a yarn involving her governess in hot pursuit of her, a herd of tomases from a tomas-drive passing through and a few women of negotiable virtue in a nearby saloon. There was no sign of pursuit or watchers as they rode out of town towards Trevino Vineyards.

"What's this all about Meryl?" Millie demanded as soon as she was sure they were alone.

"I can't tell you that," Meryl said, sighing heavily. "At least not yet. It's not that I don't trust you, you know I do, but I have a conflict of loyalties to wrestle with presently."

"Alright," Millie said acceding reluctantly to Meryl silent plea to let it be okay. "I guess I can go with that for now."

"Thanks Millie," Meryl said, looking relieved.

"You should at least tell mister Vash though," Millie insisted. "You know that he of all people can keep a secret and the way things are going it looks like this could turn out to be trouble. You might need his help."

"You're right about the trouble part anyway. I should just keep my nose out and let them make their mistakes except that I have this darned conscience nagging me," she grumbled, sounding very vexed. "Well we should go anyway, if I'm late for that damned dressmaker's appointment my stepmother will have kittens. For the record, they're wrong if they think they're measuring me for a bridesmaids dress for my sisters wedding; I'll show up and give my well wishes. I'll even smile and pretend to play nice but I'll be damned if I have to participate in this farcical ceremony. Besides... did you see the colors that she picked out for her "spring theme?" uhg..."

Talk turned to lighter things on the way home and arrived shorlty before noon. They dropped the tomases off at the stables, taking care to remove the saddle and give a rub-down themselves before parting ways. Millie was off to lunch at the manor and Meryl said she'd walk to the dressmakers.

I hope she knows what she's doing, Millie thought as she looked back over her shoulder to see Meryl patting the neck of one of the tomas at the fence near one of the stable-buildings.

I still have time, Meryl thought consideringly. She looked covertly about her again but there was no-one who could see her so she quickly ducked between the building and the full-wood door of the fence. With a feeling of nostalgia for days passed she crammed down in between the bales and boxes, slid and scooted her still-small form underneath the shell of an old jeep that had been hidden under a tarp for as long as she could remember, and finally after pausing for a few minutes to listen for anyone moving about trying to detect her (another old habit to keep all of her old secret hiding places a secret) she slid out the floorboards under the middle of the jeep then rolled and dropped down into the tiny crawlspace below.

The sliding trapdoor that led to a tiny hidden crawlspace was located in the floor of what was now a garage and storage shed for outmoded equipment, farming implements and other various paraphernalia that an estate this size tended to accumulate over the course of time. Meryl had discovered it at a young age in the process of hiding from one of the more horrid of the governesses her father (and later her stepmother) had hired to raise her in the appropriate manner. The old woman had been of the "spare the rod, spoil the child" school of governance and Meryl had hated her with a passion, taking any opportunity she could to get away from the old womans tyranny even if had meant a tanning later that was twice as bad as what the old woman would have given her.

I think in the original plans for this old rock, this place was supposed to be a shelter from the dust storms, before they got the field up and running, she thought absently as she paused to listen for any movement nearby. It wouldn't do to give away such a useful hiding place now when she might later need it to save her life rather than merely hide away from a mean governess.

The estate grounds, not to mention the manor house itself, had undergone several changes from its somewhat humble roots. Each successive generation of Trevino had seemed to take it upon themselves to change, modify, or add on to the enormous pile that the family resided in as well as the outbuildings. These changes, all without consulting the original blueprints, had lead to making the place a veritable labyrinth of secret cubbies, hidden rooms or passages, and concealed exits. Meryl, who had taken it upon herself to dodge her governesses for some much-needed free-time growing up, knew a lot of them. She wasn't sure that she knew all of them, but she knew a good number. She'd picked this one, not for it's location near the stables, but for the lock it had from the inside.

She squeezed down and in with wriggle of her shoulders and a twist of her hips and thought

Funny, I remember it being a lot bigger. 

She squeezed herself into the cramped, dank little hole, made certain there was no way for any light to peek out to the surface, and pulled out the ancient analysis device that her friend had pirated from an old ship. The thing could do all of the things that it took a fully equipped crime lab to do now days; chemical analysis, comparisons, DNA testing... you name it, all in a device about the size of an average hardback novel. Any federal Marshal would probably give their right arm for one.

She loaded the samples (including the surreptitious tissue samples from the patients at the clinic) that she'd gathered from the town and set it to analyze its molecules, looking for something in particular. She was secretly praying she wasn't going to find what she knew she was entirely likely to find. She knew that it was probably going to take a little while for it to find (or hopefully not find) what she was looking for; a simple chemical analysis would have only taken a few seconds, a DNA analysis only a little longer, but she was going farther than that, looking at the very particles that made up the molecules in the samples and that usually took longer.

After about twenty minutes or so, Meryl started to fidget, worrying that she'd be late for her appointment but she stayed put; as soon as she left for her appointment she knew very well that she wouldn't have the unsupervised free time afterwards to come back and check and she had to know for sure. At last the thing pinged and announced that its analysis was complete. Meryl quickly scanned the results...

Her heart plummeted. There had been more protons than electrons detected in the molecules of well over half of her water and sand samples and in all of the tissue samples. Nuclear decay was occurring; the protons were breaking off into smaller molecules; and in the case of the organic samples, cancers were developing. In short... nuclear radiation poisoning.

Meryl muttered a long string of such vituperation under her breath as would turn the air blue cursing Mori-korin and her father both for their short-sighted idiocy.

How could they? How could he? she thought, feeling sick with a sense of betrayed honor. He promised that the family would always be responsible for that thing, that they were the stewards of it and under their purview would never allow it to reach beyond its means, would never allow it to harm innocent people. He promised that it was the family's responsibility to see that it was forever shielded. How could they not only fail in that, but not have even enough honor to warn or evacuate the nearest town?! Those rat-bastards! 

Meryl was not going to let them get away with it.

I'll bet it's mostly that Dylan Mori-Korin's fault, she thought furiously. He probably thought that since he was marrying into the family and was the future heir and steward of Trevino Vineyards he could just do whatever he wanted.

But my father doesn't exactly have one foot in the grave, she thought. When I take my findings to him he'll be sure to turn whatever is happening around. He'd do anything to avoid disgracing the family name; if he doesn't want to cooperate with his own responsibilities then I'll just remind him of the scandal that would commence announcing the mysterious "illness" going on in the nearby town and where it comes from. He may be a business man, but I'm sure he'll do the right thing. 

That still, small, cynical little voice in her head told her not to be so sure about that.

Better make a back-up plan just in case he's less than cooperative. 

A.N. Sorry I took so long to post this, but i started college again and sort of just forgot to post it. So here it is, the plot thickens... wow, this thing now has an actual plot, sort of. Please leave a contribution in the little box (or you can just tell me what you thought and pester me for the next chapter, whatever works for you).

Nightheart.


	6. I Ain't Never Loved a Man

The place was huge, absolutely palatial; it spread out in a spiderweb of rooms and corridors interspersed with intimate gardens and courtyards. The public rooms all occupied the front of the house with the ballroom, the formal dining room, several withdrawing and music rooms, two billiard rooms, an enormous library and other large rooms suitable for hosting and entertaining large gatherings. Obviously these people were accustomed to entertaining on a large scale fairly regularly. All of them were very richly appointed, with no expense spared; the floors if they weren't covered in plush carpeting were of finely polished marble or granite or in some rare occasions even real wood (which was ruinously expensive to come across). The furnishings and art pieces were all of the finest make and materials. On the wings off to the sides were the living quarters and more private rooms like studies, offices and the like, wings attached to those side-wings held guest accommodations. The tones and shade used were more muted and less openly opulent but even these were luxurious. In the very back were the servants quarters and the rooms devoted to running such an establishment such as kitchens, laundries and the like. Behind the back in a different building were the tomas stables and the garage, the tool sheds and other buildings devoted to running the estate.

Hard to believe Meryl grew up in all of this, Vash thought as he finished looking around. She doesn't seem like the type to have grown up a pampered princess. She so... rough around the edges. She even seemed to enjoy roughing it in the desert sometimes... as long as things went well. He couldn't imagine any of these pampered young women setting foot on a dusty road in the outlands, let alone tracking down an infamous outlaw. They were all so delicate, so perfect, like a room full of porcelain dolls dressed up in their lace and ruffles.

Then he tried to picture Meryl in lace and ruffles and his brain shut down. It just wasn't happening.

Right then the place was a hive of activity with the wedding preparations going on. He'd been chased out of the kitchens by an upper servant wielding a wooden spoon, but how was he supposed to resist the temptation of all of those pastries laid out too cool? The public rooms couldn't even be politely called a hive of activity... it was a screaming mad-house. There were servants rushing thither and yon, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to do whatever errand or task they'd been assigned. Decorations were being finalized and put up in the places meant for their display. People asking anyone who looked like they might know where this or that particular flower bunch was supposed to go and were those arrangements for hanging or centerpieces? Even the family quarters were a little nuts; gaggles of boys and girls, all of them in various stages of wedding costume, being chased by their governesses and scolded to behave themselves. There were lovely young women, presumably bridesmaids, being fitted for their dresses (Vash had been chased of by a burly member of the staff as soon as he evinced any interest in witnessing a fitting). He was just about to try and figure out a way to sneak in when

"oof!" Vash was run smack into by his hurrying short-girl who was rushing down the hallways in search of the women she had an appointment with.

"Short-girl!" he said cheerfully. She looked up blankly at first, blinked and said

"Vash, what are you doing here?" her eyes narrowed immediately with suspicion. "You're not getting in trouble are you?"

"You know it really hurts you always ask me that," he told her, looking injured. Meryl gave him one of her patented skeptical looks (why did they always make him squirm?) and said

"You wouldn't by any chance be looking for a way to investigate the bridesmaids fitting rooms a little closer would you?"

Dammit, I hate it when she guesses right, Vash thought.

Meryl didn't do it often, usually she was more than happy to take whatever solution was most apparent and run with it (which had made for some interesting moments for him, especially early on in their association) but she could be strikingly perceptive as well as suspicious and second-guessing when the mood took her.

"Uh-huh," she grunted looking coolly at him. "I can see by your face that you were. Honestly! You and your philandering ways land us in more trouble than-"

"There you are!" her step-mother exclaimed shrilly, striding down the hallway accompanied by an aide of some sort. "Where have you been all morning?! Nevermind. Come along, the seamstress has been waiting for over an hour!"

"I'm only late by thirty minutes," Meryl grumbled as she was dragged off.

Yeah where did she go this morning? Vash wondered. He'd knocked on their door a few times then peeked in to find them gone so he'd spent the morning looking around the house for them only to overhear in the stables that they'd gone out for a ride at dawn. There was some speculation among the servants that Meryl and her partner were say, _more than business associates_ but that was aside of the point.

Hey! he thought brightly. If I follow Meryl to her seamstress appointment then I'm sure to get in close with the other lovely women there for the fitting! 

"Don't even think about it Vash!" Meryl called over her shoulder as she was hauled out of sight by her very irate step-mother.

Nuts. 

He sighed in defeat. There'd be plenty of other opportunities later, according to the schedule the wedding wouldn't be taking place for another two or three days.

I guess I'll just go check on Knives, make sure he's kept happy and out of trouble, Vash thought with resignation.

The rooms they'd been assigned were up to even Knives' very demanding standards, and that was really saying something. The only entrance to the suite was off a private garden courtyard shaded by tall palm trees in large decorative urns with a miniature fountain in the center surrounded on four sides by stone benches. Past the private entrance one walked into a small entry foyer tiled in restful neutral colors with a place to remove ones shoes and a small mirror on one side, and a door leading to a small office/reading area, and a private dining area on the other. The foyer opened out to a large open living room, on either side of the front of the living room were two arched ways that led to a suite of separate bedrooms for each of them. The Living room itself was carpeted in very plush carpeting of a light off-white with a set of tan-colored couches two plush chairs, and coordinating tables of glass and wrought-iron done in the spanish-style filigree. Built into the wall on one side of the living space was a large flat display screen and a reader slot of data-hedrons, the shelf next to it containing a large selection of old earth programs and cinemas. The back of the living room wall had three window panels to let in the sunlight and two glass doors on either side that led to the two small back patios (that were also attached to each of their rooms). The two bedrooms off to either side of the living room were mirror images of each other, one done in green with darker woods and the other in blue with lighter wood accents. Each had the exact same large beds and private bathrooms, each done entirely in the signature colors chosen for them. That was good, it meant that he and Knives were no longer fighting over the bathroom in the morning.

Coming here seemed to have settled Knives down anyway, he was surrounded by enough luxury to satisfy his need for elegance, and he need not ever come in contact with anyone outside of the rooms, all he needed to do was either ring out for service or leave a note on his breakfast tray and the staff that ran the place took care of whatever whim he had. Vash felt bad for them, so generally he made as little fuss as possible. For the last little while, Knives had apparently sequestered himself away in the office/reading room just off the foyer and was steadily making his way through whatever was on the house computer system. Knives had been making use of the computer in the office for most of the night, yesterday... he always had been a night owl.

"Hey bro," Vash said unenthusiastically as he opened the door.

His brother turned to look over at him, probably curious by his twin's lack of usual enthusiasm. As ever with the two twins, a single glance was all it took to understand. It was nice to have that back, Vash had forgotten how much he'd missed it.

"If you weren't so obvious about your skirt-chasing, you'd be able to fool the petite one easily; she never looks past the surface," his brother said, reading a lot from only a few clues. "Besides, you shouldn't be pursuing the other species for breeding purposes in the first place; it's disgusting."

"There aren't a whole lot of our own species wandering about outside now are there?" Vash pointed out.

"Immaterial," Knives scoffed.

"What are you watching anyway?" Vash asked, changing the subject.

"Your short pet's wedding debacle," Knives said off-handedly. There was a faint aura of smugness about him however that said he'd brought the subject up because he knew his twin might be interested.

"What?!" Vash said, uncertain he'd heard his brother correctly. "Did you just say-?"

"Yes. I found it in the system archives, along with some other things of minor interest. It has nothing to do with me so I don't care about them, but you might find them interesting simply because you know at least one of the parties involved," Knives said, sounding nonchalant about it but he couldn't quite keep the note of smugness from creeping into his voice.

"You didn't by any chance hack your way into the system and decrypt those files did you?" Vash guessed shrewdly, knowing his brother only too well.

"Naturally. It would have been too boring here otherwise." Left unsaid was the idea that if Knives got bored, he might just find hmself something to do to keep him amused. An amused Knives was almost never a good thing for the people around him.

Vash was torn between curiosity about that wedding debacle and wanting to chide his brother for invading peoples privacy.

Screw the moral high-road, just this once, he decided abruptly. If I ask Meryl she'll probably never tell me, the girl's too proud... 

He shrugged and pulled up a seat in front of the monitor where his brother sat. Knives obligingly started the video from the beginning.

The video actually opened on the formal dinner that took place the evening before the wedding. The cammera first zoomed in on the bridal dress on display at one end of the room and it was the most costly and gaudy display of wealth that could be assembled. Vash got the feeling that the dress with its iles of raw silk, crystal beads and seed pearls, handmade silk lace, brocade of satin and elaborately bejeweled headpeice, had not been made so much for the comfort of the bride as it had been made as a way to show for her father his wealth and status before the assembled gathering. The camera person started at the end of the table and recorded all the way down the long, white damask-covered candle-lit table finally zooming in on the happy young couple. Young was the operative word. Vash's jaw _dropped_.

That- that- that pedophile! That cradle-robber. My god she's still a baby! Vash thought in shock. Granted, Meryl was tiny and would probably always look younger than her age and in the video her face had been done up with make-up to make her look _older_ but...

"She can't be more than fourteen or fifteen!" Vash exclaimed in outrage.

Indeed, even though Meryl as an adult was not what one might call well developed, she at least had all of the curves in the right places; the little girl in the display screen was small and skinny, and looked only somewhat past pubescent.

Obviously her father is of the "old enough to bleed old enough to breed" school of marriage arrangement. 

"Stone-caster," Knives rebutted. "You're well over a hundred, where do you get room to criticize?"

"_I_ get room to criticize because she's a fully-grown, consenting adult," Vash shot back, watching the dinner go by with a feeling of disgust because a very, very young Meryl Stryfe was making calf-eyes at a young man who, being above the age of consent, was certainly old enough to know better. Obviously she was in the throes of her very first crush.

"See? She looks happy enough," Knives remarked as the camera zoomed in on a particularly sweet moment between the happy (_young_) couple during which the groom got up and sang a love song to the very blushing bride-to-be. The little performance fell flat in Vash's eyes however. The young man appeared devoted enough, but there was an air about him that said he was playing up for the crowd, his endearments seemed a little too stiff, his words of love seemed somehow very rehearsed.

Vash said nothing as they continued to watch.

"...wish the bride and groom every happiness and felicity in the years to come," her father was saying at the toast at the end of the meal. It sounded less like a toast and more like a well-thought speech. "I wish also to express my pleasure and surprise at my eldest daughter for at last taking up the mantle of her prescribed responsibilities and finally acting in a manner that is a credit to her family and her upbringing."

Ouch, Vash thought, wincing. He wasn't surprised when Meryl blushed, but it looked less like it was from embarrassment and more like it was from anger. He chuckled suddenly when he noted that Meryl mouthed the words "pompous ass" when no-one was looking. Her glare remained as firey as ever.

The scene changed, showing the rows and rows of long benches out in the midst of one of the main gardens in the estate decked to a fare-thee-well with ribbons streaming from the bouquets flapping in the soft breeze, real roses by the bunch in white and pink, there was shade provided by five enormous inter-connected white silk pavilions with banners of pale blue flapping smartly in the wind. The guests were all arrayed in their finest, the camera person caught some of the asides and they weren't exactly what you would call complimentary about the bride. Most of them centered around a general feeling of disbelief that the bride had been enticed to the altar at all, with acerbic sides about her rough temper and tom-boyish personality as well as the "rebellious " streak in her.

And I thought I was a black sheep, Vash thought. He noted that her grandfather was frowning, looking at the groom with worried eyes; there seemed to be at least one person who was less than happy to see Meryl being married off.

The bridesmaids were all dressed in palest pink with light blue trim, layer upon layer of delicate chiffon of the highest quality flirting in the soft breeze that blew through the pavilion. They looked a little like the cast of Victor Herbert's "Babes in Toyland" in their sugary confection of wedding dress. There were the requisite member of groomsmen and they all looked... suspicious. Vash's instincts told him that they were carrying some form of weaponry on them.

As for the groom himself... the eighteen-year old young man looked very smug about something. He just had the look of a cat who's found the cream about him and Vash's teeth were immediately set on edge. It smelled like a set up.

The traditional wedding march was started up by the string quartet in the nearest pavilion and all hands rose and faced the rear. There was a sudden collective gasp of shock from the assembly. Vash blinked, uncertain at first of what he was seeing, but then began to chuckle.

The sweet blushing bride, instead of being swathed in the half-a-fortune gown of white silk and hand-embroidered lace trimmed with cultured pearls with a train that went on for iles that had been displayed earlier in the video was instead wearing a...different dress. A _very_ different dress. It was simpler in make, plain satin, no extraneous decoration or frills, no pearls or lace or ruffles; a V-neck with thin silk straps on the shoulders lacing down the back and it was...

Red. It was _very_ red. A brilliant, glaring, defiant _scarlet_ dress in the midst of a desert-full of insipid pink ruffly frills.

Her father's face was an angry red to match the dress that was slowly beginning to shade to purple. He was beyond pissed. He looked like he was just going to explode on the spot.

As for Meryl herself, she was looking up the aisle to the young man waiting at the altar with challenge written on her face. There was a defiant tilt to her jaw and a smile playing about her lips that, while not quite smug, certainly had the attitude of "so, what are going to do about it?" She was testing him. Giving him a challenge to see what he would do, if he'd try to punish her for it or if he'd smile and laugh it off. Even at a young age it seemed she hadn't been entirely willing to take true love devotion at face value.

The crowd watching from the sidelines had stopped bothering to whisper and the low hum of muted conversation had risen to a loud buzz. The camera was in a position to hear everything said at the altar and when she reached it to take her place the groom turned to her father and said in smooth tones of honeyed cream

"I think that an embarrassing stunt like this calls for a re-negotiation of our little contract."

"Contract?" Meryl demanded softly. "Father... What is he talking about?"

The was a long moment when the audience and everyone else seemed to hold their breaths. The young Meryl looked over at her beloved groom with wide, pleading eyes. There was a look of combined hope and heartache on her face that was difficult to look at. The groom was less than sympathetic when he replied

"Your father had to offer me quite a tidy sum, on the side of being made heir to the Vineyards, to convince a well respected young gentleman such as myself to take you off his hands." This said in a cavalier tone designed to be cruel. The look of pain and denial on her face as she digested the words of the tragedy before her was heartrending.

"I want double the money," the young man went on as if her pain meant nothing to him (and it obviously didn't). "She's even more of a hell-cat than you told me, and even with her being in love with me it seems she's inclined to flout my authority. I'll have to pay a good deal of money to turn her into a wife that won't embarrass me in public."

Her father opened his mouth; by all appearances he was actually going to _haggle_ over the adjusted bride-price right in front of the family and everyone! Meryl abruptly said

"I should have known."

"What?" Dylan Mori-Korin said, looking over as if he'd just remembered she was there.

"I said; I should have known," Meryl said in a soft, yet carrying voice. "I knew that something wasn't right here; those men you brought with you... they're thugs. I saw them appraising the house valuables and sorting through the things in the safe hidden in father's office. You're planning on taking things over. You weren't ever in love with me, you just pretended to be and I was stupid enough to fall for it. Well consider this the end, I'm calling off the engagement. It's over. There's not going to be any wedding, and the only way you're ever getting me into that goddamned dress is if you use it to dress my corpse."

"That's enough out of you," her father said sharply. "You listen here--"

"And as for you," Meryl said her voice heating up into that familiar tone that Vash knew so well, the one that said she had only just begun to read him the riot act on his long list of faults. "I am sick and tired of always saying how high when you say jump. You think you can just order me around like I have no mind or will of my own? I see now the lengths you'll go to to control me and I am not having it. I'll make it on my own or not at all!"

With that declaration she turned on her heel and strode back down the aisle. When she reached the edge she gave a sharp, shrill whistle between her teeth and a moment later an enormous black beast of a tomas, half a size bigger than even the biggest Vash had ever seen galumphed into view. Meryl leaped onto his bare back, dress and all, from a standing position. She paused just as she was about to ride away, looking back over her shoulder coldly at the groom and her father.

"Take your contract and blow it out your ass," she said succinctly. She kneed the enormous beast she was perched on and started to ride off, probably to anywhere but there.

There was a loud thunder-crack that split the air the camera jumped and there was a minute or two of frenzied wobbling and the sounds of gasping and someone fainting and a general upset of what was supposed to be a calm and dignified ceremony. The camera steadied a moment later just in time to see the tomas Meryl was riding away on give a high-pitched whine and fall to one side. Meryl rolled safely off from its back as it fell.

"Temper? Temper!" Meryl yelled, frantically crawling over to the enormous creatures head. She shook him, waited, and then shook him again. "Temper, open your eyes," she pleaded.

The beast gave out a low-pitched guttural moan, deep in its throat and then went still.

I don't believe it, Vash thought when he saw Meryl bowed over the still form of the tomas, shoulders shaking silently, trying to repress the tears. The camera-person, obviously curious as to who had made the killing shot, looked back up the aisle to show the groom with a smoking six shooter.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, the ugliness hidden behind that urbane demeanor coming out into the open. Meryl said nothing, still slumped over the tomas that had obviously meant a great deal to her. Vash recalled now that Meryl and Millie both liked tomases in general and had tried on several occasions to get him to get one instead of renting or buying a jeep. They both came from a land-tending back ground (Vash had earlier assumed that Meryl had been a city-girl, she was so polished and refined about everything) and apparently they both had made an early attachment to riding tomas-back as opposed to relying on machinery.

Mental note, Vash thought angrily over the long-ago tragedy playing out before his eyes. Line that guy up for target practice. He took a moment to reconsider, as her father had an equal part in this mess. Both of them. The show wasn't over yet.

"Get back up here," the groom commanded. "It appears we're going to have a shot-gun wedding."

Meryl's spine straightened and she stood abruptly, her face was a stone, a calm unreadable mask but for the tear-tracks glittering down her face and the emotions glinting in her eyes.

"You had no right," she whispered. Louder she said "You had no right!"

"No right to what?" the young man demanded impatiently, clicking the cock back and pointing the gun at her head. She met his eyes without flinching, without backing down.

"You had no right to kill Temper!"

"Don't be a sentimental twit," the young man said. "He's just a tomas. There's more where he came from, and he's my rightful property in the first place. I can kill him if I want to, all I've lost is a few hundred double dollars."

"You're wrong," she said, her voice shaking. "Temper was... Temper was my only friend. You or anyone else had no right to kill him. No-one has the right to kill another!"

"So that's where she got it from," Knives asided dryly. Vash shot his brother a sharp look. "All that melodrama over a dead tomas. Must have been a pathetic little girl if a tomas was her only friend."

"I grow weary of this, now be a good little girl and do as you're told... or else." He cocked the hammer back on his pistol as an auditory reminder of what the "or else" was. No-one was stopping him, part of the crowd looked too scared to move and the other part looked on in disinterest, some of them even looked like they agreed with the young man.

There was another thunderclap as a second shot rang out. Meryl's grandfather was standing in the front row with a smoking gun while Dylan howled and curled himself around his hand, the gun he'd been holding at Meryl lying at his feet.

"You flint-hearted young bastard!" the old man roared, his mustache bristling with rage. "I ought to have you horsewhipped and then keel-hauled across the Great Sands Desert!"

In reply the entire groomside busted out with hand-guns and even a concealed semi-automatic in the case of one portly fellow. Meryl hauled out two derringers from god only knew where and a few of the guests on the bride's side of the wedding were probably off duty soldiers from her Grandfather's old militia days because they stood up and busted out with a few handguns. It looked like the entire thing was going to devolve into a shoot-out her father abruptly roared out

"That's enough!" Everyone froze, looking over at him. "All of you. Put down your weapons. I'm not going to host this sectors chapter of the quick-draw contest. Especially you Meryl, put that thing away; you're a disgrace. I don't know where I went wrong with you but I'm going to put and end to it now."

"Kiss my foot," she shot back, not twitching a muscle and certainly not inclined to put her derringers away.

"I've had more impudence out of you than I can stand, it ought to be you that's horsewhipped and hauled across the desert by a rope. I've cared for you, I've raised you, I've given you the best of everything the finest education and tutors, the best clothes, good food and this is how you repay me."

"Good food I won't argue with," Meryl replied. "But as for the rest; you've given me only everything of what you think I _ought_ to have and nothing of what I really need. My tutors taught me to be elegantly useless. I got dancing lessons, walking lessons, dressing lessons, music lessons, etiquette lessons and a slew of others designed to suck the life and soul right out of me. Be a good little girl, _conform_. Don't think for yourself or say or do anything that might make people think you have a brain."

"Now just a--"

"And as for the clothes; they're more useless and impractical than the lessons were! Iles of lace and skirts designed to hobble me as certain as any tomas, and corsets strung up tight enough to make it impossible to breathe or move or think. If I had to run for my life I'd be caught up in a heartbeat, not to mention accomplishing anything useful."

"But--"

"I can't deny that you did indeed give me the best of everything, as suited for my gender and presumed role in life, but... all of that is only stuff. You haven't once given me what I really need. You've never tried to get to know me as a person, you've just relied on reports from those governesses you hired or that little girl you married. You've never spent even so much as an afternoon in my company. The only words of praise I've ever gotten out of you weren't even for myself but for doing as you wanted me to. I'm sorry father... but you're just not good enough for me."

All of this seemed to be coming out in a torrent of words, an avalanche of repressed feelings and hidden emotions. It was like once she'd started saying what she really felt she couldn't bring herself to stop.

"How dare you, you insolent, headstrong viper-tongued wretch! I curse that your mother had ever bore you you ungrateful, puling, whelp of a girl. Do you know how much trouble I had to go through to get a husband for you?" her father replied angrily. "You're well known to be a troublesome girl among our social circle and it was hard to find a man of good standing who would be willing to attempt to tame such a wild creature."

Meryl actually laughed at that.

"Tame? _Me_? Don't be ridiculous," she said scornfully. "And don't do me any so-called _favors_ next time."

"If you're so scornful of this family and everything it's done for you then we don't need you. I am disowning you. You'll receive nothing from us, you'll have to work in stables like a common sand-slave, you can have your crusts from the kiken-coop and your water from the tomas troughs! I DISOWN YOU!" He thundered like a saturnine demagogue, raining down divine retribution from on high.

She took a deep breath, looked around her as if seeing the place with new eyes and nodded her head, as if confirming a decision she'd made.

"I'm going to leave this place now," she said with even-voiced conviction. This was more the determined confident sort of tone that Vash was accustomed to hearing. "I've been accepted into a fine prep school in December City and I'll be attending Halberd University this coming fall, father."

"The hell you will!" He roared. "I'll write the damned school myself and-"

"You won't," a firm, hard angry voice from off to the side said. Her grandfather Arthur separated himself out from the crowd and made his way to Meryls side.

"You won't," the grandfather repeated. "I don't know where I went wrong with you that you'd rather count double dollars and ce-cents than spend time with your daughter but if you had you'd realize what a very special and precious young lady she really is. Meryl is... smart as a whip, clever as any desert fox, she can ride better than half your breakers-and-backers, she can shoot as well as a second-year federal marshal trainee, fight like a desert scotura that's nest has been invaded, and she must have the patience of a saint to put up with this indignity heaped on her without complaining... she has hundreds of wonderful things about her that you seem to dismiss out of hand. Meryl is worth ten, a hundred, a thousand of any of those simpering socialites you have hosted here and I won't stand to see her treated this way especially by her own flesh and blood; the ones who are supposed to love her the most."

"Gr-grandfather..." Meryl said, looking at him at a loss for words, choked up and crying silent tears of gratitude.

"I'm sorry about Temper, Meryl, I know you loved him," her grandfather said apologetically. "And about not being aware of what my idiot son was up to but you seemed so happy I didn't want to say anything. You go on ahead to December and you get that proper "man's" education. I'll be more than happy to pay for it myself (as would your father if he had any sense). Let this be my way of apologizing. You can get your freedom and with it you can use it to fly... anywhere you want to."

Meryl wordlessly hugged her grandfather tight and the camera footage ended there.

"Wow," Vash said in the silence after it ended. "That's rough."

It wasn't the same as having your own brother kill the person you loved most in an attempt to exterminate the human race, perhaps in the grand scheme of things it was a teacup tragedy, but it had obviously shaped the person Meryl had become a very great deal.

You can't weigh pain against pain or heartache against heartache anyway, he reminded himself. No-one can stand there and tell you that they feel more or you feel less than them. In the end, all pain stands on its own, I guess. 

"No wonder she's so uptight," Knives commented in boredom.

"Yeah," Vash said, smiling, for once actually agreeing with his twin. "You can't make someone they're not."

"Don't be silly, of course you can," Knives replied dismissively. "It's easy with the appropriate use of drugs, torture and mind-controls implanted into them. You can make people do whatever you want them to do and believe anything you tell them is absolute gospel, even if it's bunk."

Or perhaps not.

"If you'd like-" his brother began to offer.

"No," Vash said quickly, picking up on his brother's thoughts.

"But she's so short-tempered and _violent_," his brother argued. "Granted, it's occasionally amusing and it makes her very easy to manipulate, but I get the feeling it is often a trial for _you_ dear brother. She always jumps to the wrong conclusion where you're concerned."

"Not always," Vash replied. "And besides, after seeing all she's been through I now think she's earned the right to a short temper. At least she's honest about it. It's better to get it out in the open than to bottle it all up inside and let it eat away at you."

"But does she have to let it explode so very often? And aside of that, she's... prudish."

Vash was taken aback.

"I'm surprised, Knives. I'd think you'd be more offended if she was hanging all over me and flinging herself at me."

Vash stuffed the tantalizing thought of _THAT_ deep down where his brother couldn't pick it up.

"I would, so perhaps I will amend that statement. She's irritatingly precise. Inferior beings should not strive so hard for perfection it is inevitably a wasted effort. She spends too much of her time and energy trying to be perfect. Occasionally it's amusing to watch her struggle but the amusement palls after a time. Make her do something else."

Vash didn't know how to explain to his brother that he had no intention of making her do anything, so he did what any wise brother would do; he changed the subject.

A.N. I wish to thank the people who reviewed in the fourth and fifth chapter, input is appreciated. TrisakAminawn, MiraiYume, and Mystic Rains thanks for the love . I wasn't really sure about this chapter, whether it would be better if I just left it out or not, it gives some back-story but I wonder if it isn't too angsty to be believable. Tell me what you think.

Nightheart


	7. A Change Would Do You Good

Millie felt like a fish in the desert; she fancied herself a simple girl and being surrounded by the "upper crust" with thier fashionable clothes that looked like they'd be utterly ruined by a day spent in the kind of work she was accustomed to and their haughty elegant accents and manner was not something she found she enjoyed very much. It was strange and sad, the people who surrounded her. They all seemed wrapped up in so many layers of game and counter-game; intrigues and politics in which they said one thing to your face and might go and say something completely different to another person based on what that person said.

It's a wonder that Meryl's as honest as she is, Millie reflected sitting down with a heavy plop on her bed.

Subtlety simply wasn't in her sempai's nature. One of the things that had attracted Millie into the torturous process of making Meryl her friend had been not just the older woman's confidence in her own competence but also her no-nonsense manner. Meryl was a practical soul, "plenty of good horse sense," as her grandpa would say, and that suited the sixth daughter of a generational farmer just fine. Gaining her trust had been an uphill struggle; Meryl was slow to let people in... very slow. But Millie knew a thing or two about gaining the trust of a wild thing from growing up on a tomas ranch; all it took was faith and plenty of patience. It had taken Millie well over six months of faithfully exchanging casual greetings and invitations out to lunch and such (that had always been met with politeness but gracefully declined) before she'd finally run the beast into exhaustion.

Meeting Meryl's family for the first time last night had been a real eye-opener. No wonder Meryl had such a difficult time opening up to anyone; just look at where she was coming from! Guarding her words had to have been something she grew up with, and if she was as much a blue tomas as Millie suspected it was probably even harder for her to run the risk of letting people in far enough to get hurt. There was a good reason that cacti had such hard and numerous thorns; the flesh was tender once one got around those thorns.

I wonder what the deal was in town this morning, Millie thought, turning her thoughts away from Meryl's family (it wasn't a situation she could do anything about, and she'd probably just make it worse if she butted in).

She certainly seemed preoccupied. Millie entertained the notion of perhaps going to Vash about it; Meryl might herself but it was more likely that she wouldn't. Meryl liked to handle her own problems and was reluctant to go getting others involved; she and Vash were much alike in that respect, both of them took too much on themselves.

I wonder what's taking her so long to get back here, Millie thought, sighing impatiently. Getting fitted for a dress might take a while but Meryl had been gone all day! It was past dusk right now and there was still no sign of her. Millie had tried wandering about the house for a while but in the end had felt like she'd only gotten in the way so she'd come back to their room for a rest from the hive of activity going on in the rest of the house. Even in this room it wasn't completely quiet; there was still the sounds of footsteps clacking down the hallway outside the room as guests and servants had to use the passage to get where they were going and the voices of people calling to other people about this or that. Millie was about ready to go hunt down Vash for some conversation.

Just then the door opened, admitting an elegantly dressed young woman in a strictly high-fashion ensemble featuring a tight corset, hobble-skirt with bustle, silk gloves and matching impractical shoes. Figuring that the guest had gotten herself lost and entered the wrong room, Millie turned and said

"Excuse me miss, but you have the wrong room."

"That's odd," came the familiar voice of Meryl from the elegant young woman in the ornate, ruffly day-dress. "I could have sworn there was only one room rented out to peregrinating disobedient daughters and their partners in this wing."

"Meryl?!" Millie said, double-checking with her eyes to confirm what her ears were telling her. Sure enough, it was Meryl... Millie would recognize that scowl anywhere. Fine clothes and facial paint couldn't disguise the expression that was purely her friend Meryl Stryfe's.

The dress that she had to have been poured into in order to fit in was cut to accentuate her fine, slim figure; clinging to her curves like a second skin at her hips and waist, tapering to a narrow skirt _not_ made to accommodate Meryl' usual brisk stride. If she could move her feet more than six inches apart at the hem, Millie would be very surprised. The ridiculous bustle at the back exaggerated the hourglass of her figure even more, and ruffles of lace at the collar and down the front were meant to de-hance her relative lack of bust. Her short hair was styled to make her look as if she had an old-fashioned pompadour instead of just short hair.

She might be trussed up in the height of fashion enough to where her own mother wouldn't recognize her (to be honest, her own mother didn't appear to be able to recognize her in her normal garb) but Meryl did not appear to be liking her new state of elegance one bit.

"_Unfortunately_," Meryl said with a heavy sigh. "My friend, I beg of you, help me out of this torture device disguised as a dress before I make a scene."

"Sure Meryl..." Millie said, approaching her friend where she stood in front of the vanity. "My, you look very pretty sempai!" Millie said that in an effort to cheer her up, Meryl's mood was clearly deteriorating rapidly.

"I hate these things!" Meryl hissed. "I haven't worn one in so long and now I remember why... could there possibly be something _less_ practical to live in invented by man?!"

Millie grinned at her friends fine-tempered rant... obviously a way to vent some form of built-up tension rather than any true anger at a hapless (though admittedly very impractically designed) garment.

Millie looked around in puzzlement at the vast and complicated array of hook-and-eye fastenings, lacings, buttons and decorative flounces.

"I can't blame you," Millie said honestly. "I don't even know where to start."

"Unbutton the tops of the gloves at my biceps, I'd get them myself but the buttons are murder to do one-handed," Meryl instructed. From there she went on to coach her partner through the complicated steps involved with disrobing a Lady of Fashion. There were an incredible number of steps in the entire process.

No wonder ladies maids are considered indispensible by the wealthy, they need one just to get undressed in the evening! Millie thought once she was halfway through the elaborate process.

Millie had just at last managed to get the corset unfastened when there came an abrupt knock at the door followed swiftly by the door being opened (as if knocking were no more than a formality). The corset and gown dropped from Milly's hands in her surprise leaving Meryl glad in her undergarment and be-derringered garters. The stripped young woman gave an awkward squawk and ducked behind Millie.

"Vash!" she screeched in outrage upon recognizing the entrant. "The _knocking_ rule is there for a _reason_! Wait for a reply before you come barging in on me!"

"I saw nothing! I swear!" he said, his voice sounding panicked. The door slammed with him on the opposite side of it. There was a moment of quiet and Meryl shrugged and picked her new clothes up off the floor and hung them in the armoire. Fishing around in her travel case she pulled out her usual garments and donned them with undisguised relief.

"Ah! That's better," she remarked to her partner, taking a deep breath.

"Can I come in now?" Vash asked timidly from behind the door.

"Oh fine," she grumbled, but it was clear to Millie that Meryl's begrudging reply was half-hearted, at best. She was giving him a hard time mostly out of habit now and because contrariness was probably part of her nature. Given the sort of environment that it appeared she grew up in Millie was starting to find that that wasn't surprising. The door cracked and Vash poked his head in, looking to see if she was had any projectiles she was planning on throwing at him, seeing the coast was clear he entered fully into the room and plopped down on the nearest bed (which happened to be the one Meryl slept in).

"Don't mind me, make yourself right at home," Meryl said, her voice heavy with irony.

"You disappeared pretty fast this morning," Vash remarked with absent curiosity as he stretched himself out full length on his stomach and snagged a pillow to stuff under his chin, Meryl gave a half-hearted frown at him for his liberties. "Where'd you two go?"

"Over to the nearest town," Was all Meryl said in a non-chalant tone of voice. She didn't mention her concerns or anything of the fact finding-mission that had went on during their visit. She didn't even mention the fact that they'd been followed. Apparently she felt the information was to be told on a need to know basis... and Vash didn't need to know. Millie caught her friends eye and gave her a significant look. She paused for a moment, as if thinking things over and then added

"It's name is Sandiville. I'd stay away from it if I were you... there could be trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Vash asked, immediately interested.

"I'm not sure yet," was all Meryl said. Vash's face was suddenly inscrutable as he looked over at her but Meryl wasn't inclined to speak about whatever it was she was hiding and she changed the subject.

"Once was enough for me," Meryl announced next. "I'm not inclined to go down to dinner tonight. I'm going to plead indigestion or something and have the servants bring me up some supper. You all can go if you want to, but I wouldn't recommend it."

"I'm good, I'll just eat here with you," Vash said quickly.

"Same here," Millie added. "I'm pretty brave, but I find the prospect of eating in a house full of wealthy strangers at a formal meal kinda scary."

"I don't blame you one bit," Merly said fervently.

"So where'd you go afterwards Meryl?" Millie asked. "You've been gone all day; the fitting couldn't have taken that long."

"I was shanghaied," Meryl said with an edge to her tone. It was apparent by her manner that Meryl was getting ready to vent about her day and that the two of them were going to be the sympathetic ears whether they wanted to be or not. Meryl did not disappoint.

"As soon as that particular dressmaker was done with me, my stepmother kidnapped me and dragged me off to _another_ one," Meryl said in an aggrieved tone. "She said that I needed to have something presentable to wear. 'Presentable to whom' I'd wondered they had me there for the rest of the afternoon draping swatches over me and discussing ribbons and I don't know what else, I thought I was going to have to hang myself from the ceiling by a bobbin of lace after a while. Finally they had something they deemed suitable and they "helped" me put it on. Well, once they stuffed me into that godless contraption they promptly carted me off to dinner at The Chez Peirre with my father..."

Millie took it that the restaurant mentioned was probably one of those restaurants where you had to RSVP and follow a rigidly formal dresscode; not your average dessert saloon. Meryl confirmed it with her next words

"That's the finest restaurant in Saptimber by the way; five star accommodations, one of those places you hear about that have food so expensive that "if you have to ask, you can't afford it". So anyway, I get there, he's waiting at the table for me. Just him, by the way, no-one else not even grandfather, I would rather have been about anywhere but there, but since I did come here to try to repair relations with the man I figured I might was well give it my best."

From the tone of her voice Millie took it that things hadn't went very well at all. Meryl's voice trailed off into a pensive silence in which she was obviously reviewing the contents of their dinner conversation, completely oblivious to the other occupants of the room. Millie and Vash exchanged a look as the silence wore on and Meryl still said nothing.

"Did you two fight?" Millie ventured tentatively as the silence grew too much to bear. Meryl gave a small start, shaken from her reverie and seemed to recall that she'd just left them hanging.

"Not exactly," Meryl said. "I'm not certain. That's the thing about my father; when he's displeased with you and he wants to bring you down a peg or two he'll lie in wait; he'll do something to intimidate you or catch you off guard and then he'll start in the middle of the argument. You can walk in and he'll start of with something like "I see" and you'll be like "you see what?! What are we talking about?" and then he'll start with the head games. As you can tell I feel like I've been through five kinds of hell right now, but I'm older and a little wiser now than I was when I was fifteen so I think I held my own with him."

There was no mistaking the ring of satisfaction in Meryl's voice when she said that.

Looks like she's not going to go into the specifics, Milly thought disappointedly, but that wasn't surprising. Even now, Meryl didn't like to let her guard slip.

"Scootch over," Meryl ordered Vash peremptorily shooing him where he lay on her bed. "I feel like I've been run through the wringer." Vash moved over and Meryl plopped down beside him with no attempt at grace, elegance or decorum. She flung a hand over her eyes and just lay there. After a moment Vash poked her in the ribs. Meryl smothered a giggle and tried to glare at him. Vash blinked.

"Meryl are you-- ...Are you _ticklish_?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed in such a way as to make the real answer ("yes, exceedingly!") very obvious.

Millie didn't know whether to honor Vash's bravery or just agree with Meryl and call him an idiot when he poked at her ribs again. She squirmed and said

"Stop that."

It wasn't an "this is fun, to keep at it" stop that, but rather a "do it again and I'll strangle you with the bedsheet" stop that.

"You are ticklish!" he exclaimed. Meryl moved her arm and gave him her best deathglare. The look was diminished however when he poked her again and she laughed.

"That's it!" she exclaimed. She yanked the pillow from under him and proceeded to beat him soundly with it. She didn't give up when he tried to run for cover, yelling for Milly to help him either, but rather, chased him around the room landing good solid thwacks when she managed to corner him. By the end she was laughing, which might just have been Vash's design in the first place (the man was far more perceptive and devious than anyone ever gave him credit for being).

"Uncle! Uncle! I give up!" he yelled at last, raising his arms in surrender. Meryl's smile turned sharp, rather like the time when Vash had broken the jeep and Meryl had come up with the idea that since he had broken their vehicle he'd just have to replace it... "Gee Meryl, this car can talk."

"Well, since you've offered unconditional surrender, I get to make the terms," she said.

"Geeze," Vash said, sighing. "it's a good thing they never put you in claims after all, you'd figure out a way to weasel through anything."

"It's no fun if I get _paid_ to do it," Meryl replied. "Now, about those terms?"

"Fine fine, by the ancient laws of chivalry," he stated in his 'deep voice' (the one he'd used while posing as "Vash the Stampede" at the Schezar manor). "For defeating me in battle you are entitled to my mount, my sword and my armor, but since I have no mount by my feet, no sword but my courage and no armor but my wits--"

"You may keep your wits, If I accepted them I would be forever at a disadvantage," she teased lightly.

"Ouch, I see your own work quite well," he replied in the same manner.

"I've seen how you ride, you should come out with me tomorrow and let me teach you a few things."

Maybe it was just Milly's imagination, but Meryl sounded almost eager. Her mind automatically painted a romantic scene of the two of them riding side by side through the desert together... Provided he could stay on his tomas. From the limited amount they'd seen, Vash wasn't a very good rider at all; if he couldn't get on a bus, ride a sandsteamer or get an automobile, he'd rather walk.

"Is that your condition?" Vash said reluctantly.

"It is," Meryl replied. Vash sighed heavily; his reluctance to get on the back of a tomas was well known among their little group.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "I'm a good rider if not a patient teacher; you'll be having fun in no time."

"Am I dreaming or did the word fun just escape your lips?" Vash replied. "I think this may be the first time I've ever heard you use the word without the word "not" accompanying it."

"Ha ha ha mister. So, tomorrow at dawn?"

"And now I have to get up at dawn too? This bites," he grumbled but it didn't sound to Millie like he meant it.

"That's right and if you're not there, I'm coming in after you so be forewarned and don't act surprised."

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter and are looking forward to t he next one. Just think, the two of them, alone... together. Erm poor Vash?**

**Preveiw: **

"**You ride like an arthritic granny," she observed. "Shoulders back, sit up straight; posture conveys authority."**

"**Is that why you always look like you have a stick shoved up your--"**

"**Just remember who is in a position to fire on whom's unguarded backside," she reminded him.**

"_**Vash, I feel that I should tell you something that's been weighing on my mind lately," she said, looking over at him.**_

_** She's going to confess! he thought in surprised delight.**_


	8. All I Wanna Do

Vash was actually far from displeased as he hurried through his morning routine of gunfighting and three minute meditation so that he could hurry to meet Meryl at the stables as he'd agreed to the evening before. Knives had shown his disapproval with a look when Vash had said he was going out riding and not to wait but thankfully he hadn't interceded further than that.

It had been a while since he'd felt this anticipatory about anything. He wasn't even certain why either; Vash didn't expect anything to happen (and he was far from ready to admit to any tender feelings for her to anyone other than himself and certainly not to the object of them) but perhaps Meryl might take the time they were going to have alone to say something.

What should I do if she does? he wondered, half in panic.

It's far more likely that she won't, he tried to counsel himself. Given the wedding debacle he'd witnessed second-hand and her own cautious and contained nature, it was far more likely that she'd continue to keep her emotional cards close to her chest... but part of him hoped she wouldn't.

Putting Knives aside, I wouldn't mind if she did confess, he admitted to himself. Apart from her being a career woman "just doing her job" as the official line went they both knew it went beyond that. It was times like this when he mourned the loss of Nicholas Wolfwood; the incorrigible priest had been his best human friend ever and probably would have had some coarse though practical advice on the subject.

I'll have to be my own advisor I guess, he thought, trying not to pace. Knives was no help in that department; as far as he was concerned Vash should dump the two insurance girls and just travel around with him.

Not like that'll happen, Vash thought with a grimace. I love my bother, in an odd half-fearful sort of way, but he doesn't travel well at all. He couldn't imagine the two of them stuck in a jeep together in the middle of no-where with no-one else around to keep them occupied without also imagining the end of the world. Vash very much wouldn't have been surprised to discover that Knives had actually managed to recruit the four Horsemen as a secondary squad for the Gung-Ho Guns.

He was pacing just outside the stable as the suns began to peak over the horizon. He was leery of going into their lair when there were far more of them than there were of him, nightmare visions of how, precisely he had earned his nickname "the Stampede" replayed themselves in his head. Why, oh why had he agreed to do this again?

"No need to tie yourself in knots Vash," came a calm remarkably good-humored voice from behind him. "it's just a little tomas ride."

Meryl had a saddle and blanket slung over one shoulder and was holding on to the reigns of another tacked-up tomas with the other hand. She motioned him to follow her into the stable so she could outfit the beast he'd be riding on. Vash stood a respectful distance away from the creature, respectful being him hovering just at the doorway leading into the stables. Meryl rolled her eyes at him and led an unusually tall female tomas out of its confining stall to the center of the stables where one of the nearby stable hands began to briskly tack him up.

"Here, for starters let me show you a trick," she said, beckoning him closer. Vash walked over to her, keeping a wary eye on the beast before him. Frankly he didn't trust riding anything that could think for itself; it might decide it didn't like him and dump him somewhere. The beast looked placidly back at him from one large liquid eye, chewing its cud with no apparent care in the world.

Yeah, sure; he looks calm and gentle but underneath that zen-like exterior he's a simmering cauldron of rage against his oppressors. 

"The key is to make friends with the creature first," Meryl said grabbing his hand and forcibly dragging him the last few feet closer. She put two sugar cubes into it and said

"Here, feed these to her. Show her you're her friend and talk to her a bit."

"Hey there!" Vash said shoving the cubes at the beast and waving with his other arm vigorously. The thing bounced back and tried to rear up, hooting loudly. Vash ducked backwards, yelling instinctively.

"Not so sudden." Meryl chided him, bringing the tomas back over and calming it down with soft noises and strokes down her neck.

"I told you this was a bad idea," he said. "Tomases and I, we just don't get along... never have, never will."

"Oh shush," she dismissed his claim. "That's because you haven't had a good teacher. Now... here," she said handing him two more sugar cubes. She took his hand and extended it slowly to the tomas so that it was a few inches away from his muzzle; the beast snuffled at the air for a bit.

"She's getting your scent," she explained. "Along with the scent of the sugar cubes and equating you with good things."

"To eat," he finished for her helpfully.

"Tomases aren't carnivores," she rebutted.

"Then what are they? There's nothing else to eat in the desert," he pointed out.

"Contrary to popular belief the desert insn't made entirely of sand you know," she replied. "These things just have the constitutions of super-goats and can eat those low scrubby brushes that grow in the Painted Desert and the Olympian Canyons, the cacti, tumble weeds and other hardy plants indigenous to the planet," she said logically.

He already knew all of this; one didn't live for over a hundred years on a planet and not learn about it, but talking helped ease his nerves. The tomas craned out its long stumpy neck at him (Meryl held him from backing away) and started to mouth the sugar cubes out of the palm of his real arm. Its lips were surprisingly soft and it made small grunty noises in it's throat in contentment.

"You're doing good, now take its snout in your hands. Don't be afraid she resists a little, just be firm with her."

Vash nervously did as she directed.

"Blow in her snout," she said. He looked at her in puzzlement but she gestured for him to proceed so Vash took a deep breath and--

"Softly," she cautioned. "Or you'll scare her again." After a short pause in which he did as she directed she said

"Now scratch at her cheeks, they love that, and talk a little at her. Keep your voice low and mellow, let her get used to your scent."

"Why is it that you don't have to do any of this?" he questioned as he watched her quickly and efficiently saddle a tomas in a neighboring stall without any of the preamble he was going through.

"They already know me," was Meryl's succinct reply. "Besides, I'm not the one who's afraid of tomases."

"I'm not afraid," he defended rather sharply. The beast before him gave a sharp grunt of surprise and looked at him warily. Vash quickly made shushing noises and stoked it's cheek-bones a little harder. After another moment the thing began sniffing him all over.

"What's she doing?" Vash asked nervously, holding stock-still.

"She's looking for more treats, give her one more cube then climb on her back." she directed.

"Right," Vash said. He knew _how_ to get _on_ a tomas. He had had to ride the things when there were no busses or other aoutmotive transports available, but Vash defnately did not like it. He gave the beast the sugar cube it was looking for and carefully moved round to the side. He put his toe into the loop for the stirrup and the beast shied to one side, looking back at him from the corner of one eye. He hopped closer on one foot (other still stuck in the stirrup-loop) and moved to try again. The wretched creature moved away again, making a hooting noise that sounded uncannily like laughter.

"This one's got a sense of humor," he noted with a grimace. Meryl tried (and failed) not to look amused when they repeated their little dance for a third time. When the tomas moved away once more, forcing Vash to hop after her like a human pogo-stick she definitely smothered a chuckle.

"Taka, stand!" she ordered firmly. The beast quieted with a soft sigh and continued regarding him from one eye, wondering if she might get away with another trick.

"You'd better listen to her Taka," Vash added, looking mischievously over at his teacher. "She always means business, just ask the patrons at her bar. They call her Old Faithful, because she blows up so regularly you can time your watch by her."

"I heard that mister," Meryl grumbled, giving him the evil eye for his jibe.

He at last heaved himself up into the saddle and settled in. Meryl gave a small cluck with her tongue and their party of two headed out down the small dusty path that wended its way through the vineyards. Meryl, oddly enough fell into place behind him, letting him take the lead. The answer as to why became apparent in a bit.

"You ride like an arthritic granny," she observed after a short while. "Stand up straighter, don't slouch. Posture conveys authority."

"Is that why you alway look like you have a stick shoved up your--"

"Just remember who's got whom in a position to fire at their unguarded backside," she warned him. "Now sit up."

He did as she said, snapping to attention on the tomas's back. Taka stopped suddenly in surprise. Meryl pulled up beside him and said

"Tomases respond to your body's clues and attitudes, as well as the usual signs, so be sure you're sending them the right signals."

He looked over sharply at her face to see if there was any hidden double meaning to her words but saw that her face was fixed firmly in an all-business mode. Meryl was concentrating solely on improving him as a rider and was completely oblivious to any double-entandres in her words.

"You have to be careful with this one," Meryl continued. "She's steady as a rock and doesn't bolt or shy nervously at things around her, which makes her good for beginners, but she's remarkably sensitive to posture and cues from the rider. Tomas and rider are a team, they're partners, if one partner's unsure of himself it makes the other partner nervous. When you move, you have to move together."

Vash nodded showing that he was listening to her. Sadly she didn't seem to see any double meaning in what she was saying and Vash didn't want to make her clam up by pointing it out; for a little while it would be nice just to pretend.

She had no idea. Simply no idea.

"Pretend there's a string at the top of your head holding up your spine," she said resuming her position behind and to the right of him to coach his riding. "Put your shoulders back a little but keep our arms loose. Forearms at forty-five degree angle from your biceps, grip the reins firmly but keep the line loose at the sides."

Vash tried to do as Meryl instructed and Taka leaned forward a little beneath him. Startled, Vash froze and tensed up.

"You have to relax," Meryl coached immediately. "Don't be self-conscious."

Vash straightened his spine and tried to relax a little. After a moment Taka grunted and started chewing her cud again.

"That's a good thing, right?" Vash questioned.

"Good enough," Meryl said. "Signal her to walk forward." Vash did so, conscious of his "teacher" riding along behind him, watching his backside.

"So," he said jokingly. "Are you enjoying the view?"

"Your ride like a sack of kelar-roots," Meryl replied.

That one just flew right past her without a pause to rest, Vash thought. Meryl was in full teacher mode and anything that might exist outside of that role was ignored. It was an unfortunate habit of hers; if Vash had gone through life so oblivious in that way he'd have been killed long ago.

"You have to move with the tomas," she pursued. "Get a feel for her rhythm."

"How do I do that?" he asked.

"Pretend the sound of her feet is like the clicking of a giant metronome and you're the long ticker swaying out at the top of it. Movement comes from the dan-ti'en."

"You know what that is?" Vash said, momentarily brought up short.

"I took tai-chi in college," Meryl said, sounding a little defensive. "And it's as true in toma-riding as it is in martial arts. Don't sit stiff in the saddle, you have to move along with her. Shift your weight and balance to keep up with her movement.

Vash tried it and found that it took some getting used to but once he had a sense of the rhythm Meryl was talking about, tomas riding wasn't as bad as he thought it was.

"Hey," he noted in real surprise. "I don't feel like I'm perched precariously on a thin rail anymore. It's a lot easier to keep my balance even with her swaying under me when I know what she's going to do."

Meryl rode up beside him and smiled brightly.

"See?" she said. "It's not so bad is it?"

"Hey," he noted, looking over at her. "Why is it that you don't have any reigns?"

"I don't need them really," she replied off-handedly. "I'm a neck-and-knee rider. Urge her into a canter and get a sense of her rhythm for that gait," Meryl instructed next.

The rock on the canter was far more exaggerated than it was at the nice sedate swaying walk and Vash had a hard time compensating at first but with Meryl steady coaching he improved. The course of their instructions had taken them well past the bounds of the lands held by her family and out into the desert surrounding the sheild. Even with the lessons and his teacher taking up most of his attention, Vash was still aware of a strange background hum subtly vibrating along his senses, he'd always been paticularly attuned to energy patterns and the flow of power through the veins of minerals and the pocket aquifers that dotted this world and he could generally recognize an energy signature by a Sister based on its vibration alone; Vash didn't know exactly what he was picking up on, but it didn't feel the same as the fields emitted by one of the Sisters.

"You're a fast learner," she said as they stopped to water the tomas at a small watering hole shadowed by a great pile of natural rocky boulders jutting up out of the sands. They'd left the bounds of her family's property an hour or so back with Meryl patiently coaching him from behind the whole way. Vash, long accustomed to spending time in solitude out in the Great Wastes, didn't think anything of leaving the nearest civilization behind him and going off on his own (or near it).

"I had a good teacher," he replied easily. Truth to tell he had been greatly surprised by how good she was. Patience was not a virtue he often (read _ever_) associated with Meryl; stubbornness and loyalty yes, patience... not so much.

They sat down in the shade of the boulders that protected the natural spring nearby and watched the winds blow over the sand in silence for a while. It was peaceful, nothing more than the two of them, no bounty hunters trying to kill him, no Gung-Ho Guns to worry about. Just him and his insurance girl, the two tomases grazing nearby on the scrubby grasses that bordered the spring nearby.

"Vash," Meryl said seriously turning a little to look at him out of the corner of her eye. "I feel I should tell you something that's been weighing on my mind recently."

She is going to confess!! he thought in surprised delight. He tried to pull a suitable serious look on his face when what he really felt like doing was picking her up and whooping with delight as he twirled her around in the air. Meryl took in a deep breath, steeling herself and then said

"It's about my family,"

Oh, he thought, nearly slumping over in disappointment. Then he perked up a little.

Maybe she's just working her way around to it, He thought hopefully.

"You've probably noted by now the irregularity of this establishment," she said, gesturing off into the distance of their backtrail to the green line spreading across the horizon and the strange dome-sheild over it.

"Your ancestors must have put a lot of effort into cultivating the land to get such arable fields," he said agreeably.

"Well... yes and no..." she said.

That's odd, he noted with a creeping feeling of concern. She looks sort of guilty. 

"The containment sphere really does most of the work, it creates conditions favorable for crops by making miniature biome within its skin; regulating temperature, blocking out harmful spectrum rays and creating a greenhouse effect ensuring humidity and regular rainfall," she said clinically. "Creating the kind of particle field that regulates temperature by increasing and decreasing the vibration of its particles is not easy or cheap in terms of energy requirements, as I'm sure you can imagine."

She's started wringing her hands together, Vash noted. Meryl never wrings her hands. Yet there it was, her hands and fingers were withing rings about one another. She was nervous about something.

"What I'm about to tell you has, so far as I know, never been told to anyone outside of the Family in all of the generations we've owned this land," she said seriously. She suddenly turned to him, face and body radiating genuine distress.

"But I have to tell someone and you're the only one I could think of who might know _something_ to do!"

"I'm flattered, you'd turn to me for help," he said cautiously. "I'll do what I can."

"I hope it won't be needed, but I'm glad you're my support," Meryl said. "Well... on with it then. The particle field generator doesn't draw energy from Plants. My great-great-great grandfather was too greedy and miserly to pay the fees the nearest city demanded to run a line way out here and he didn't want to pay taxes on the energy required to run the field..."

"I don't see any solar panels or a wind farm nearby," Vash noted cautiously. "So... something else?"

"Something else indeed," she said ominously. "In your time on the ship your teachers Rem and the Captain no doubt told you how Earth wound up in such dire straits."

"Pollution and negligence... and wars," he said promptly.

"Nuclear and biochemical warfare as well," Meryl added, nodding firmly. "But it's the nuclear part I'm concerned with. According to the history books, after the last great war on earth, in which over a third of the earths population was killed outright and half of the rest crippled or sickened irreparably all of mankind got together and signed a declaration banning the research, employment and construction of any nuclear device no matter what it's intended use was."

"Which was sort of a pity in a way because they'd finally perfected the design for a nuclear fusion reactor for generating energy," Vash noted. "So?"

"So... nuclear power was banned from use. For all time. Regardless of circumstances. _Period_." she said.

"Yes, and that's what made the discovery and use of plants as a power source so necessary," Vash said in puzzlement. "What's the point?"

"Well, nuclear power is a forbidden technology. Even knowledge of how it works is strictly proscribed," she said urgently. Vash considered her for a moment then looked over at Trevino Vineyards with its iles and iles of green fertile land protected by an enormous energy-consuming particle field and...

Click.

"You're joking, right?" he said.

"I wish I were," Meryl replied.

"Where's the generator?" he asked urgently.

"We're sitting on it," she said. "I wasn't supposed to even know about it, but I've always been a little too curious and never really learned from the lesson about what it did to the cat. Once, when I was a girl, I went exploring out here to these rocks after I'd given my governess the slip and snuck off on Temper, that was my tomas when I was a girl, and found the cover to the porthole by accident. I went down it just as Alice did down the rabbit hole and guess what I found on the other side?"

"How did you know what you were looking at?" Vash asked curiously.

"It's run by an artificial intelligence, a voice addressing system no less, and It told me what It was," she replied. "I could never talk to my father, so I asked my grandfather about it later that night and he said that I must keep my knowledge a secret."

"Why?" Vash asked, feeling more than a little suspicious. He'd genuinely liked the old man; but then, Leon Schezar had seemed like a nice fellow too, at first. Perhaps her grandfather, like Leon Schezar, was only interested in making a profit from a natural resource.

"For the greater good," Meryl replied. "Right now these fields export nearly half of the crops that feed all of Gunsmoke, the vineyards only make a small percentage of the whole of the arable lands. Arrable lands, as I'm sure you've noticed, are at a premium on this world; it's not easy to farm in a desert. In addition this place sends out free care packages to sectors afflicted with greater drought than usual or other natural disasters in which a starving population needs relief. If the technology that drove the success of these lands were revealed and the ban on forbidden technology enacted that source of food would dry up. More people would starve when the population is already barely making it by as it was."

"Okay," he said nodding slowly. "I can see the justification. And... your family seems like it's being cautious with what its doing with the generator... I don't see the harm in letting it stand."

"When I went to college later on I discovered about radiation poisoning in my studies of history and of science," Meryl continued a little hurriedly, as if in a rush to get it all out at once.

"Since I knew about the reactor underneath the Vineyards I felt it was my duty to face my father and question him about what safety precautions he had in place to make certain that none of the radiation was leaked out. When he first found out about my knowledge he was very angry but assured me, assured me faithfully, that our family, who were the custodians of this power, would never misuse it and would treat it with utmost respect. They were the guardians, he said, who stood between the rest of humanity and possible harm. There were many many layers of shields protecting the world from any leakage, many security protocols placed within the system to prevent tampering with the reactor. He promised me that my family would always honorably and vigilantly guard the reactor."

"You think they've somehow failed in that?" Vash hazarded, not liking at all the distressed tone in her voice.

"Not yet perhaps, but I believe they soon may," Meryl said seriously. "This is the first time in all of the generations that Trevino Vineyards has not had a direct male decedent ready to take over the business. My sister and I are deemed "unsuitable" because of our gender, to inherit the vineyards and for the first time father has been forced to look outside the enclosure for an heir. He's settled on Mori-Korin, not just for his wizardry in the field of business but also, I suspect, for the considerable amount of further wealth and assets he will bring to the Vineyards."

"He's going to put that guy in charge of a large scary thing that goes _boom_ if you poke it wrong?" Vash said incredulously. "How does he know he'll take care of it?!"

"Mori-Korin is ruthless," Meryl said with the decisiveness of mathematical law. "Without a sense of mercy. That's often good in business where too soft a heart can sink you, but..."

"But if he has no sense of compassion and only sees bottom lines, you're worried that he'll do just what was done back on earth and screw the future over for short-term benefits," Vash finished her thought for her.

"Exactly," Meryl said. "I suspect he's already begun to do so. The citizens of the nearest town have begun to exhibit signs of the early stages of radiation poisoning. It's still treatable now but that tells me that the shields on the reactor have either weakened, been tampered with or... the reactor itself had been forced to increase its output of energy."

"Or perhaps all three," she added as an after thought.

"You're so full of good news," he said in a poor attempt at humor.

"Well, actually, I do have some good news," she said raising a finger. "I mentioned that my father and I had met for lunch at Chez Peirre yesterday right?"

Vash nodded.

"I informed him of the troubles in Sandiville and how I thought there might be radiation leaking from the reactor and politely requested that he investigate and solve the problem. He told me he'd take care of it."

"Did he use those exact words Meryl?" Vash asked, spying something way off in the distance from the corner of his eye.

"Yes, why?" she asked in puzzlement.

Vash suddenly leapt on her and tackled her to the ground at a bullet pinged right over their heads.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she demanded, cracking him super-hard against his skull as soon as she could move. Obviously she hadn't heard the bullet. The second one, thankfully, got her attention.

"Oh great," she muttered. "Bounty-hunters."

"Just another fun-filled day," he said as their uninvited guests opened up a hail of bullets on the place where the two of them were resting. The tomases took off on their own, getting out of the line of fire and Vash slung Meryl over one shoulder and sprinted for the safety of the other side of the rocks. For once she didn't argue with him.

It didn't take more than that first glance for Vash to get a head-count and an estimate about their weapons. Thirty-plus years of being hunted down for the bounty on his head had made him practiced indeed at gaging an enemies strengths and weaknesses in a very short amount of time. There were seven of them all piled into a jeep; three with automatics, two regular gunslingers, some guy with what looked like two mortar-shell launchers grafted onto his back and another guy manning some tank-like pivoting automatic machine-gun tower welded onto the top of the jeep.

Puffing out a sigh, Vash checked his new colt. He'd replaced his trusty lngcold with a new gun because, even though he was a pacifist, the world was still a dangerous place to live and there was still a bounty on his head. The new gun didn't have the same weight and feel, but Frank Marlon had made it for him for gratis out of a sense of camradery towards Vash and said he'd been happy to make it for him knowing it'd be used for only good. He filled the clip with bullets while Meryl eyed her own derringers... and his day had been going so well too.

I mean, even if I didn't get a confession from her, we were at least spending time alone together, he grumbled to himself. That didn't happen often really, less so since his brother had joined their little traveling circus. Not that he didn't _like_ having Millie around, or even Knives, (on occasion) but he didn't get much alone time with a woman he'd begun to notice he was thinking of in a proprietary sort of way more and more lately.

"This is just what we need," she mumbled. "Vash, please take out the explosive weapons first. I don't want them damaging the shields."

Good point, if whatever it was that was beneath them went off, they and every one else for iles around was beyond screwed.

In a motion so practiced that he didn't really even think about it anymore Vash sighted, aimed, and squeezed off four rounds. Two hit on-target for the mortar-launcher guy, fritzing out the crude electronics of the launchers. The other two went down into the barrel of the tank-gun tower. The ensuing explosion rocked the little jeep onto its side and all of the rest of the posse of bounty-hunters ducked and rolled out of the blast range with cries of dismay.

With an easy click, Vash reloaded his piece with new bullets.

Vash took advantage of the confusion to leap out from his cover and use the round he'd just loaded to disarm the two gunslingers and the men weilding automatic rifles.

These guys are riff-raff, Vash thought with a dismissive sniff as he finished off any chances they might have had for re-arming themselves with his final bullet; he fired off a shot that's flying trajectory ricocheted the extra carton of mortar-shells that the back-pack man had been carrying into the midst of the pile of weapons that Vash had created when he'd disarmed the men and then promptly shot the explosives which did their job and exploded. No more guns.

Vash allowed himself a moment to smugly revel in his victory. He knew he was good, all of that harsh practice had made him so, but this had been really easy. Surreptitiously, he glanced over to see if his short girl had witnessed his prowess and was impressed. He'd always rather liked that he could impress her. He barely resisted the urge to preen and strut like any young man showing off for a girl, and moved to scan three-ixty to see if he'd missed anything.

He turned just in time to see an eighth and uncounted bounty hunter with one arm around Meryl's mouth to keep her from crying out and a gun at her head. True to form, instead of freezing in fear at the sound of a pistol cocking near her ear, Meryl only glared at her captor and continued her struggles.

No bullets. Vash knew his clip was empty because he'd developed the habit of counting off his shots; even in the midst of a heated battle he knew exactly how many bullets he had. Still, that guy probably did not have the same habit, and he'd heard Wolfwood remark that when Vash was shooting fast all of his shots sounded like a single shot together. Vash could probably bluff his way out of this.

"Let her go," he commanded, pointing his pistol at him.

"Stay out of it boy," the unshaven bounty hunter grunted, still trying to get an handle on the wriggling, squirming short girl. "This isn't yer fight. An' hold still damn ya!"

The look on her face promised unpleasant retribution to the man should she manage to win free. That was his Meryl alright. It didn't look to him like the threat of a gun fazed her much, after all she'd seen and been confronted with just as bad or worse over the course of their travels together, she was probably thinking something along the lines of "it's going to take a lot more than a piddling little hand gun and a death threat to hold me you scrawny..." Unfortunately Vash knew well that whether or not the wielder was as intimidating as a Gung-ho Gun or a puny as a half-starved bandit, a shot to the head would kill her just as dead as anything delivered by an executioner more powerful.

"Meryl, please hold still," he called over to her. The man looked like he was just going to start shooting in another heartbeat if she kept up her struggles. Meryl froze instinctively, trusting him though she did send an inquiring glance his way.

"Thanks boy, ya jus' made my job easier," the man said as he got a firmer grip on Meryl and cocked the hammer of his pistol back.

Vash had half a heartbeat to realize the magnitude of his mistake.

They weren't after him, they were after her. It was _Meryl_ that they wanted to kill.

"Wait!" he cried desperately. Anything just to buy time so that man wouldn't pull the trigger. The man didn't even flicker a glance at him as his finger tightened around the tiny piece of metal that decided life or death.

His world seemed to end with the sound of a gunshot.

So tell me and be honest, how many of you want to kill me for that cliffhanger? Heh heh heh.


	9. It's Only Love

_"Thanks boy, ya jus' made my job easier," the man said as he got a firmer grip on Meryl and cocked the hammer of his pistol back._

_Vash had half a heartbeat to realize the magnitude of his mistake. _

_They weren't after him, they were after her. It was Meryl that they wanted to kill._

_"Wait!" he cried desperately. Anything just to buy time so that man wouldn't pull the trigger. The man didn't even flicker a glance at him as his finger tightened around the tiny piece of metal that decided life or death._

_His world seemed to end with the sound of a gunshot._

Vash closed his eyes. He closed his eyes as every muscle in his body tightened. Vash didn't want to kill again. He didn't want to take another life, but he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself if he had to look at her dead body lying on the ground. So he closed his eyes and waited, allowing the man a chance to escape with his life. It was a good thing his gun was out of bullets otherwise he would have surely raised his arm and shot the person still standing there.

"Vash," a voice that sang with the sound of angels... except that it was a snapping, irritated and wholly alive...! His eyes snapped open to see the scowling, irate form of his insurance girl alive and well and looking just as peeved with him as she ever did.

"This is no time to take a nap," she scolded. She would probably have added onto that (just as she usually did) with a lecture about his irresponsibility, but she didn't get the chance. Acting on its own accord, his body simply moved to pick her up and hug her close, assuring himself that she was there and she was real and she was okay.

The body of the man lay on the ground next to him with what looked like a rather large dart sticking out of the bottom of his chin. Meryl tucked what Vash had at first assumed was a derringer back in a holster hidden in the folds of her cloak; now that he got a better look at it, he realized that the derringer was actually a tranq-gun.

"You're okay!" he exulted, arms wrapped securely around her. He snuggled her closer like a life-sized doll, rubbing his cheek against her kitten-soft hair.

"Erg... Yes, yes," she said awkwardly. She patted him uncertainly on the back while he squeezed her close, just so relieved and thankful she was alive. She wasn't exactly melting into his embrace however, she stood stiff and awkward in his arms, clearly unsure as to what she should be doing right then.

"Okay. You can let me go now," she suggested. Vash wasn't interested in hearing the suggestion, no he would be quite content to go on just as he had been going on for the past minute. She was sure to loosen up and hug him back, eventually.

"Vash," she said after another moment, beginning to squirm a little. "Let me go."

He couldn't bring himself to do it. Only a few short moments ago, his world had felt like it had come crashing down around him and now everything was okay. She was here and safe, and she was going to be fine.

Suddenly he was knocked silly by the usual, almost inevitable, display of Meryl's temper. He was going to have a goose-egg on the back of his head in the morning from where she'd struck him down... but it was worth it.

"Stop wasting time," Meryl commanded. "We have to find out what these men were after. I was certain at first that they were after you, but that's apparently not the case."

"Can you think of anyone who would want to kill you instead of me for a change?" he asked as they scanned around for signs that the hombres had brought back-up.

"I'll bet it's Mori-Korin," Meryl growled, looking intent on tracking him down and taking just retribution out on his hide personally. "He's not head of the household yet, he's not even married into the family and already he thinks he can bring in his henchmen to do the dirty work."

Vash had another thought, based on another thing that his brother had told him that he'd found in the family's computer archives while he'd been hacking his way through them to alleviate his boredom. Meryl's father, the current head of the household, did not actually rule the roost; Arthur had turned the day-to-day running of the business over to his son, but he had retained a few very basic controls on the family business. Controls that included controlling interest in the family estate.

The son, Meryl's father, ran the estate and the business with Arthur's permission but did not own the land or the business in his own right despite being his father's heir. He owned thirty-seven percent of it on his own but the rest was still retained by his father, Aurthur. He most likely expected to inherit the rest (the deeds to the estate and controlling interest in the company) upon the death of Arthur, but Knives and Vash (due to Knive's inquiries) knew that this wasn't to be the case. The will had been changed. Arthur had left everything, all the land, all of the amassed wealth, the family business and the secret... to his grand-daughter, Meryl Stryfe. Upon the death of Arthur, Meryl stood to inherit everything.

So, someone else knows about the change in the will, Vash thought. It could just be the groom, like Meryl thinks. It is still in his own interest to kill Meryl, seeing as he is marrying into the family in order to inherit the farm from the father via his marriage to the other daughter.

But it could also be the father who gave the order to kill Meryl. Vash didn't want to believe that, he didn't want to think of someone being ruthless and cold-hearted enough to order the death of his own daughter but Vash knew from personal experience that just having the same flesh and blood did not guarantee that you were safe from someone carrying out a vendetta against you.

Briskly, Meryl rolled the unconscious body over and began searching through the breast pockets of his shirt, patting down his arms and the legs of the sides of his jeans turning his pockets inside out before flipping him over and checking his back pockets. She was riffling through his pockets for money?

"Whoa! Short Girl, I never suspected this side to you," vash said taken aback.

"What are you talking about broom-head?" Meryl demanded. "I'm looking for his wallet."

"That's what I meant. I mean, you seem so straight-laced all the time it's just surprising to me that you'd search a man to take his money," Vash replied.

"I'm looking for his wallet," she said with a tone of strained patience. "So that I can see if he has any form of identification on him. A passport for the steamer or even some kind of club card would be nice. It's not likely, but it's worth a shot. Even if we don't find an ID on him, perhaps even finding cash on him will be useful."

"How so?" he questioned.

"Well, a lot of the territories and provinces print their own version of the double dollar locally," Meryl explained as she went on to search the other bandits. "They're acknowledged by the federal government as valid notes, but they have their own distinctive markings on them. If we find these fellows have a lot of notes printed outside of this territory, we'll know that they come from the outside and it's not an inside job."

"That's... that's actually really clever, Short Girl," he said as he helped her search for some clue that might tell them for certain who had sent them.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" she grumbled. "It's not easy hunting you down you know, especially when I have nothing more to go on than vague rumors. I have to sharpen my other skills at detection in order to track you."

"And you still didn't believe it when you found me," he teased.

"Who could blame me?" she shot back. "I haven't actually been able to decide if you're a very good liar, or a very bad one!" She was trying to hide her amusement with exasperation but Vash could see the smile being suppressed at the edges of her mouth.

"Your grandfather is in tight with the local militia," Vash mused aloud. "With your skills at tracking and your love of bureaucracy, you'd probably be a Federal Marshal's _dream_-partner; why do you work in insurance?"

"I originally went to the academy to become a Federal Marshal," she admitted reluctantly after a moment. "But they have a minimum height requirement, and I feel short of it... no pun intended."

"Lucky for me," he said lightly. "If they'd sent you after me to arrest me, I'd have had a lot harder a time of things. For one thing, I'm sure my skills at breaking out of prison would have been honed a lot more."

"Besides, I'm not dissatisfied with my work, despite all of the paperwork you make for me," Meryl said."In insurance I'm helping people to rebuild their lives; there's not a whole lot of security in this world and life's tenuous enough as it is, people need a fall back when things go wrong... as they so often do. I've found as well that disaster investigating itself is often fraught with its own challenges, and chasing you around the sands has been its own reward sometimes. I've had fun traveling like this, despite everything or maybe because of it."

"You like the freedom don't you?" Vash said in realization.

"More or less," she said with a small smile and a shrug. "Even if I spend part of the time chained to a desk reporting my every move, I still get to spend time away, out there." She gestured vaguely out to the horizon in the distance.

"But even when we're always on the move, you still don't get to dictate where you go," Vash felt obliged to point out. "You have to follow me, so really I get to pick."

"That's true," she allowed. "But at least I don't have people constantly telling me how to act and how to dress and who I can and cannot be. I have a lot more freedom now, even within the strictures dictated by my work, than I ever had up on the pedestal as a Lady of Society."

"I guess that's true," he said. He waited for another long moment, then decided that he was going to go for it.

"Do you like traveling with me?" he asked. "I mean, really like it?"

"There's never a dull moment with you around," she said wryly, her smile widening. Her tone wasn't giving anything away, though. Getting meryl to admit to anything was like playing tag in a nest of sand-poppers (little rodent-critters that made their homes in twisting labyrinthine warrens in the sands) you could think that you'd finally managed to trap all the exits so the critter couldn't escape only to find that it had wriggled out and down into a hole that you hadn't seen.

"That's not an answer," Vash pointed out. "Do you _like_ traveling with me?"

He'd learned in a hundred-plus years of having to sometimes hunt the little buggers down for food when there was nothing else to eat, that the secret to catching one was to herd it to a place where it had not choice but a flat-out run and run the little critter into exhaustion. (Of course, by the time you finally managed to catch up to it to kill it and eat it, you were exhausted too.)

She paused to consider him for a long moment, he face unreadable, and finally nodded once, firmly.

"You drive me crazy sometimes, most of the time actually," she said by way of reply. "And through no fault of your own you are a lightning rod for all kinds of trouble, but... I like being with you."

That was almost a confession! he exulted. How much longer could she go before he finally managed to run her into the ground?

"A man will chase a woman until she catches him" he thought with heavy irony as the old proverb ran round in his head.

"Well I'm glad you like to travel," he said, deciding to leave off at that for the day. They'd made progress and there was no reason to push the issue now and risk making her uncomfortable; when Meryl got uncomfortable her temper started to spark.

"Why's that?" she asked curiously.

"Because it looks like we're walking back to the Vineyard," Vash said.

"Well, there's one big advantage to using live animals for travel instead of machines," Meryl said, sticking two fingers athwart her lips and blowing a shrill whistle.

"What's that?" Vash asked, echoing her curious tone of a moment earlier. The soft hooting noises and the shuffle of two heavy beasts feet against the sands sounded from a nearby dune a moment later.

"Machines do not come when you call them," Meryl said a little smugly. A moment later her beast obediently shuffled up to her and pulled around for her to mount up. Taka took one look at Vash, made a snorting noise, and shied away, beating the sand with her heavy blunt tail.

"Aw c'mon!" Vash complained. "I even gave you sugar cubes!" He turned to Meryl. "See, I told you. Tomases just don't like me. I think it's ingrained into their genetic code or something."

"It's not only just you," Meryl admitted. "Taka likes to push at people just to see what they'll let her get away with. I thought the two of you might make a good match."

"Why would you think something like that?" Vash grumbled, making a snatch for the reins, missing and stumbling over so he got a faceful of sand for his efforts.

"You let me do much the same," Meryl said, with a small smile.

She caught that eh? he thought, surprised again by how much Meryl actually caught on to. There was no question that Milly was uncannily observant, for all that she had a refreshing genuine innocence to her that tended to throw people off. Meryl was always the sensible one, the one that thought in straight lines, logical, orderly and generally very much in the box; it was because her thinking was so orthodox that Vash tended to dismiss her observant side.

Meryl led the way back to the vineyards, Vash keeping a weather eye out for more trouble along the route. On the way they passed the time by answering questions back and forth.

"So how did you get the nickname "Stampede" anyway?" Meryl asked curiously. "You'd think they'd have chosen something even more destructive sounding, like the Annihilator or something."

"What? The Humanoid Typhoon isn't destructive enough for you?" he teased back.

"I've been out in some typhoons," Meryl replied. "They're only as bad as the winds that blow in them, and generally speaking the damages are minimal compared to sand-shakes or shrieker attacks."

"And people say I live dangerously," he muttered. "You know what the difference between you and me is?"

"Of course," Meryl said. "I'm better looking."

"No. I don't go_looking_ for trouble," he said. "In fact, when trouble finds me I'd be happy to run away from it. Not you though, you just like to rush headlong into danger."

"My friend Karen says that some women just aren't happy unless they're risking their lives," Meryl said humorously. "Of course, she also said that if I keep on rushing into the Outlands after Vash the Stampede, I'd never know womanly happiness, whatever that means."

"I think she just meant that you'd never get married," Vash pointed out.

"Given what happened the last time I got lured to the altar, I'm not so sure I want to be," she said frankly. For all she knew, Vash didn't know anything at all about Meryl having nearly been married to that Dylan Mori-Korin, so for her it was an unusual slip of the tongue. Vash debated calling her on it, but noticed the way she immediately clammed up and looked over at him to see if he'd noticed her slip up. So she wasn't ready to talk about it yet, Vash let it go and instead said

"So what, you're just going to follow me around for the rest of your natural life trying to keep me out of trouble?"

That made her pause for a moment.

"That does sound pretty lame actually," she admitted. "And you never answered my question. I'm sure there's a story behind it, and I'll bet its a good one, so come on, spill."

Way to change the subject. 

"No-way," he scoffed. "You already have enough blackmail material on me without my adding to it by telling you exploits from my past."

"So you admit that there were exploits," she teased lightly. If he didn't know any better, Vash would almost swear that it sounded like she was flirting with him... but nah, Meryl wasn't the sort to flirt. Despite his and Milly's numerous attempts to get her to loosen up a little and lighten up when they went out barhopping, Meryl remained as sober as a judge and too serious by half.

The good news is that she's never so much as glanced twice at anyone else, he consoled himself. But now that he thought about it, perhaps that was a bit strange... the ratio of women to men in the Outlands was very much in the women's favor and not all of the men who lived out there were freakish-looking muscle-bound death-squad crackheads like the guy with the big green mohawk or that scary-looking Gofsef fellow.

"Ya got me," he admitted with a shrug. "So how about you then, any dirty details from a sordid past?"

"Can you honestly imagine me having a sordid past Mister Vash?" she said by way of reply.

"The fact that you answered with a question seems suspicious," he replied. "It's been my experience that those who answer questions with other questions are leading the questioner to draw conclusions that the questionee wants them to come to."

"Beware the half-truth that is said to lead away from the real truth, for often times the half truth is worse than the lie," Meryl quoted. "I see what you mean, but in answer to that; no, I have no dirty details from a sordid past."

"Well surely you must have had boyfriends," he pressed.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," Meryl adroitly sidestepped.

Vash was reminded once again of the sand-poppers.

"So you clearly don't go for the sophisticated businessman type," he noted, trying another tactic.

"What makes you say that?" she wondered.

"If that were the sort of man you were looking for, you have an entire office building full of them back in December," he replied easily. "You could be married with a house and three kids by now if that were the sort you were attracted to."

"Why are you suddenly so curious about my love life?" Meryl demanded. Vash ignored it and continued

"Perhaps doctor or lawyer types are more your speed." Meryl scowled at him for his shenanigans, but Vash continued, undetered.

"Nah, nah I can't imagine that you'd want to date anyone who might argue with you and win. And as for doctors, what career-woman wants to marry someone who gets called away from their nice warm comfy bed in the middle of the night to go take care of someone's cough?"

Meryl looked at him like he was loosing his mind.

"Mister Vash-!" she began, using that whipcrack tone of voice that almost never failed to make him snap to attention, but he was having too much fun with this

"Maybe you like the artistic types," he said, by now beginning to sort of relish the way her brow was starting to twitch. "Hm, no that doesn't seem your style at all, too dreamy and impractical. You'd probably strangle the poor fellow out of frustration when he started spouting poetry at you and couldn't pay the bills."

"Grrr..." Meryl gritted, clearly not liking this new game of his. So, predictably, she turned the tables on him. Meryl's motto seemed to be that the best defense was a good offense.

"Well it's no mystery what your type is Mister Vash," she growled. "The way you carry on like an idiot anytime an attractive woman steps into a room._Any_ attractive woman. Except me of course, but I can only guess that that's your instinct for survival kicking in. Like it should be now... telling you that it might be best to _leave it alone_ Vash."

Vash's instincts were indeed screaming at him, they were telling him that provoking Meryl in this way was a good way to get her really really angry with him, and not just in an "you just blew up half a town and now I have to do paperwork on it" sort of way either. But he'd started this, and intended to finish it.

"Or maybe," he continued on heedlessly. "Maybe, just _maybe_... You like the ruggedly handsome outlaw type." he struck a deliberate pose and looked at her from the corner of one eye to see what her reaction was going to be. She gave an amazing amount of... no reaction at all. Instead she made that blank, pleasant, serene-face that she had worn last night at the party, the one that was a well-practiced mask to keep from giving her feelings away in her expression. She clucked her tomas a little faster and trotted up ahead of him without saying a single word in response. he hurried after her, unwilling to let it go at that.

"After all, who could blame you?"He added, when he caught up to her. "Pampered, rich city girl meets dangerous, skillful, not to mention brave and handsome outlaw? It's the stuff that romance is made of."

"Trashy dime ce-cent novels perhaps," Meryl said with a dismissive sniff. "Which everyone knows have absolutely nothing to do with real life anyway. And who are you calling _pampered_?!"

Idiot, he berated himself, as she urged her tomas to speed up past him. He'd just barely managed a sedate walk and wasn't sure he wanted to go for any gait more challenging than that just yet. And things were going so well, but you just had to push things.

"So am I right?!" he called up ahead to her. Might as well hang for a lamb as an ewe after all.

"I refuse to dignify this idiocy with a response," she replied in perfectly correct tones. Vash figured that it would be better to make amends now than let her be mad at him, things were too much up in the air where her safety was concerned to risk her alienating him and him not being nearby in case she needed his protection.

"I'm only teasing," he said. "You can't blame a guy for trying to guess after all."

"And why can I not?" she demanded next.

"You've just never indicated one way or another what kind of person you like," he said, trying not to sound uncomfortable or too interested. This was coming out all wrong.

Meryl abruptly kneed her horse around and blocked his path. Taka reared back and planted Vash on his butt on the ground. Meryl looked down at him from on high and said

"You really want to know? Fine. I'll tell you. People that I like and respect are those who try to be all that they can be despite the circumstances they're given. Who do not give in to greed or venality. I like men who stand up for what they believe in, who hold the line even if they're the only one holding it. Who never start a fight but always finish it. I admire someone who... who always tries _kindness_ first, when it would be so much easier for him to just shoot first and ask questions later." She flushed just a little and then smiled softly. "So perhaps you are right when you say that handsome outlaws _are_ my type."

With that she turned her tomas on a pivot and trotted the beast off, leaving him staring after her in shock.

That was not the sort of heartfelt, dewy-eyed confession that most men want to hear, he thought to himself as his shock faded into elation. But I'll _take_ it! 

**Yayyyyy! She did it! #victory dance on the desk# Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me thus far, your words of encouragement make this story possible. Shout outs to all the wonderful people who reveiwed the last chapter... Sunni danni, Darkbangle, lanenk, taixishi, mistie, Reader, the Quoi (any relation to the Who? Just curious...), Jade Eye, and catgirl26. **


	10. Live It Up

**Last time on "Home" our reluctant couple went out for a long romantic tomas ride together but instead of love patter, poor Vash get's let in on a conspiracy instead (_not _what he had been hoping for). Then the bounty hunters showed up and ruined whatever ambiance they'd managed to scrape together, but what's this? Vash wasn't the one they were after? And finally, we left our hero on his butt in the dust after just having heard a dewey-eyed confession of love, or well, maybe it was more like she just let him have it. Either way, he'll take it!**

Milly looked up from her floppy-back romance novel (involving a pretty young office worker and the ruggedly handsome outlaw who saved her from a hostage situation on a sandsteamer) when Meryl knocked and swiftly entered the room that the two of them were sharing. She looked... unnerved. Meryl almost never looked unnerved. Milly found out why she was out of sorts a moment later.

"I went nuts on him!" she gasped out. Milly's heart leapt. Finally! It was about gosh durned time too!

"That's wonderful Meryl!" Milly enthused. "What did he say?"

"I don't know, I didn't stick around long enough to find out," she said, looking chagrined.

Oh sempai, Milly thought, internally shaking her head. She could be so very competent and collected in almost every single aspect of the rest of her life but when it came to matters of the heart she was "completely out to sea" as Milly's mother would say (the phrase stuck around despite the fact that no-one in this or the previous generation had ever seen a sea). Milly was getting the feeling that Meryl simply didn't know what to do with her emotions, most people cut their teeth on their family relationships but Milly had seen Meryl's family and very much doubted she could look there for support.

"Well, that just means that he'll have time to think about how he'll frame his reply then," Milly comforted her friend.

"This is such a bad idea," Meryl moaned. "I mean, falling in love with your assignment-- oh god, I just said love didn't I?" She looked utterly horrified. Milly had to fight hard to maintain a straight face.

"Yes you did," Milly assured her. "And you know what? It's not the end of the world."

Meryl frowned and started drawing water for a bath to wash the dust off after the mornings travel. One tell about Meryl's background and breeding was that she was always impeccably neat, and very cleanly.

"It could be the end of my job though," Meryl pointed out. "I mean, how unprofessional can you get? Falling for the person you're supposed to be running surveillance on isn't what a top-notch field agent does."

"Now you're just making obstacles," Milly said. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, it doesn't even matter what Mister Bernardelli thinks, all that matters is what you and Mister Vash feel about it."

"You say that but-- well, I doubt he feels the same way I do," Meryl said. "I go out of my way to be as bitchy as possible to as many people as possible, who in their right minds would want to get close to that? It'd be like hugging a cactus!"

"Mister Vash is a glutton for punishment sometimes," Milly joked softly. "I don't think he really minds your thorns."

"It just makes no sense," Meryl said.

It didn't even take a woman as secretly observant as Milly to figure out that Meryl liked to keep people at arms length with her scary temper and her strict, rigidly formal bearing. She did go out of her way to have that intimidating icy wall of professionalism about her, but Milly had seen long ago that it had been formed by Meryl as a way to protect herself.

"There there, Ma'am," Milly said, patting her shoulder. Before she could add on to that there came an abrupt knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Meryl called out, her voice just barely on the edge of a tremor.

"Kelsie the maid, Miss," said a voice on the other side of the door that was not anywhere close to being the meek submissive tone of many of the house servants. Instead it sounded, brisk, peremptory and full of impatience.

"The Missus sent me up to ready you for tea."

"Erhg," Meryl muttered in an undertone to Milly, rolling her eyes at the door. "It's my step-mother's Ladies Maid. I despise that woman and the feeling is mutual, you should see the way she likes to tie a corset."

"I am already dressed," Meryl replied, meeting tone for tone, her spine unconsciously straightening. "And I don't recall being scheduled for tea this afternoon."

"Maybe you should go Sempai," Milly felt obliged to advise. It was after all, only tea, and it was family. "Just to be polite."

"You're probably right," Meryl grumbled. "And tea gowns don't generally have corsets. Alright, I''ll go."

"Come in," Milly called out to the maid. The door opened and a formidable looking she-dragon of a woman in her late forties entered the door. Stiff-backed and correct, she wore matronly propriety the way others wore scarves. She took one look at the both of them and gave a single soft sniff, but that was enough to let it be known what her opinion was.

"If you'll just hop into the bath," she said as her first words upon entering. "I'll have your clothes laid out for you."

"A bath is always good after a ride," Meryl allowed, as if bestowing a grudging favor. "Milly, will you come to tea with us? The cook makes excellent scones."

"Sure Sempai, I'd be happy to," Milly said, recognizing a subtle cry for help, or at least company so she wouldn't be alone, when she heard one.

"I'll send down to the laundry for something in your size," the she-dragon replied with another of those sniffs. The lady walked over to a heretofore unnoticed box on top of a sat-feed radio and pushed a button on it then spoke into it ordering up two maids with an iron and a dress in Milly's size, preferably blue if they could find it. Then she went about with brisk efficiency pulling out a satin tea gown in pale indigo (that color somewhere between blue and violet) with a white bloused underskirt, stockings, shoes and gloves.

The two maids appeared at the door a moment later readying the skirts laid out and brought with after they'd set up thier ironing board and iron. One of the maids actually knocked on the bathroom door while the other was ironing and the dragon lady was setting out accoutrments for hair styling and asked if Meryl needed someone to wash her hair.

"Sit over there in that chair Miss Tompson," the Ladies maid instructed. "I'll have Shally do your hair."

"Um, okay," she agreed, not really wanting to find out what would happen if she told this formidable woman no.

Shally was an unassuming girl of average height in her mid-twenties, she shared a conspiratorial wink with Milly and made a face at the older woman's back when she wasn't looking. So, the superior servant wasn't well beloved with the under staff, not surprising. Milly contented herself with the gentle tugs on her scalp from Shally beginning to work on her hair.

"It's so thick," she commented, carefully working the brush through it. "It must be murder to take care of in the desert."

"It's not so bad," Milly said. "I'm used to it like this."

Shally proceeded to pull the top half back into an elaborate clip of a beautiful butterfly made in brilliant sparkling colors made of swarovski crystals. The rest of her hair she left down as Milly preferred, curling the ends. She then pulled out two long bangs on either side of her face, and promptly began to curl them into ringlets to frame at her face and hang in front of her ears. As she began to start applying make-up the door to the bathroom opened.

Meryl emerged a few minutes later wrapped in a dressing robe and one of the other servant girls started in on her hair, it wasn't long so there wasn't a whole lot to be done with it, they seemed to be feathering it on top and styling to sides in a wave with her bangs off to one side and the back styled to look like it was in an old fashioned twist secured by an elaborade hair comb that was in reality clipped into the shorter hair in the back.

The tea gowns they were dressed in (Milly hadn't had someone else dress her since she'd been a small child!) were long, thin elegant affairs of pastel silk and ribbons. There were, thankfully, no corsets, the tea gowns were of an empire cut, with a sash that gathered the torso just below the bust with enormous bows in back, slim, flowing skirt was left to fall from the sash. Milly's dress had an off-the-shoulder neckline that showed a little (but not too much) cleavage and small puffs at the upper arms which only went to the elbow and cut off. Meryl's was a little different, being a squared off U with short loose sleeves that gathered at the tops of her shoulders and fell in folds to her elbows.

Once they were finished the upper servant dismissed the rest of the maids and gave the two of them a thorough once over from every angle before pronouncing herself satisfied that they were fit to be seen in company.

When they emerged downstair and were presented for tea by the parlor maid they found that most of the guests were already seated and being served. There was the bride-to-be of course, and the mother of the bride, as well as a host of what were probably bridesmaids and frieds of the bride (likely the entire female portion of the graduating class of Mellisandra's finishing school) but Milly was surprised and taken aback to be greeted with a face they recognized.

"Why Miss Marianne!" Milly exclaimed upon seeing her. "I didn't know you were invited too! What an amazing coincidence."

Milly didn't miss the way the pretty Federal Marshals eyes widened, not just in surprise but also a little dismay.

"Oh... wow!" she said a little stiffly rising to greet the two of them. Milly could see worry being hidden behind her eyes. "Fancy meeting the two of you here..."

Meryl's head cocked to one side as she appraised the other woman and said

"It's been some time, but I'm certainly glad we could get that little matter about the home owners insurance you bought from the company smoothed over." Milly was about to protest that Marianne hadn't bought any insurance from them but Meryl nudged her surreptitiously in the leg and Millie caught on.

"Yes, I sure am!" Marianne said, seizing on it with thinly disguised relief.

"Why Meryl, I wasn't aware you knew Miss Aura-Cayzen," the step-mother said from the seating arrangement made to accommodate a crowd for tea. "Her grandfather is in charge of the federal Marshals, you know," she continued. "And Grandfather Arthur is old friends with him."

"One of those odd coincidences," Meryl said. "I take it you're here on behalf of your family. for the wedding then?"

"Oh, yes, just me representing the family," Marianne said brightly. "Nothing else more interesting than that, just a girl doing her family duty..."

"Uh-huh," Meryl said, politely not buying it. She appeared to be willing to play along though and said only

"Welcome to the vineyards, i hope your stay is enjoyable. Please let me know if there is any way I can be of assistance to you. I'd be happy to show you around if you'd like."

"Thank-you, you're very kind."

Milly could see right away that Miss Marianne wasn't here just for cake and tea, she could also tell by subtle cues from her partner that Meryl was betting she had and ulterior motive as well. However, her senior partner seemed to be willing to let the Federal Marshal do what investigating she wished to do undercover and was providing her with an out and a way to maintain her cover story.

They sat down to tea and the discussion of the minutae of the wedding commenced unabated. Milly noted with some amusement that after ten minutes Meryl was already starting to grow impatient with the topic. A practical woman to the core, Meryl didn't seem the type to take delight in lengthy comparisons of one cut or fit suiting lace better than chiffon or whether satin was an appropriate material to wear to a fall wedding.

"So," Mariane said, catching on to Meryls thinly disguised boredom with the topic (to be honest, the young federal Agent didn't seem to be overly thrilled with it either).

"Are you still traveling with Mister Ace Gunman?"

Meryl blinked at the sudden change in topic, and brought herself around to figuring out what Marriane was hinting at.

"Oh! Ah... yes," she replied.

"Then I take it you haven't found Vash the Stampede" Marianne added, sipping her tea delicately.

"...um..." Meryl stalled.

"And that's good," Marianne said without missing a beat. "Because if you had, i'd be forced to arrest him."

"Well we wouldn't want that," Meryl said, at last grasping at what the Agent was getting at. "Besdies, I doubt there actually is a real Vash the Stampede anyway. It's probably like the Dread Pirate Roberts in that old story..."

Marianne looked blankly back at her.

"You know, the one about the girl who's lover dies so she gets married off to a prince and then kidnapped by these three goons who want to start a war between two countries and-- You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Nary a clue," Marianne assured her.

"Oh, well, you should read it," Meryl said with an air o being accustomed to having this happen. "It's really funny. The original was actually a satire in its day."

"Is that so," Marianne said politely. The conversation petered out after that.

"...and then there's the bachelorette party," her sister Mellisandra was going on. The topic had turned to the agenda for the next few days. "That'll be the night after the formal dinner, but before the actual wedding."

"Bachelorette party?" Meryl said, looking dismayed. The wide-eyed, tomas-in-the-headlights look was a new one on her.

"Yes," Mellisandra said, turning to talk to her step-sister for the first time all day. "The saloon down in Sandeville has agreed to host it. Dylan and the boys have already cleared reservations at the cabaret for that evening, so we have the place to ourselves!"

"My dear, you know I shall never approve of those things," her mother said uprightly.

"What? Men get to do them, there's no reason why I shouldn't get to have one last night of fun before settling down to be married," Mellisandra argued. "Fair is fair."

"But men are.. well it's just different that's all. Ladies are not supposed to go wild and act in a manner unbecoming of their station."

"But it's alright if men do the same," Meryl cut in, irritated. "That's what is known as a double standard. Let the girl have her fun, lord knows the grooms side will likely be out all night drinking themselves sick, debauching with women of negotiable virtue and generally making asses of themselves. If Mellie wants to do the same, minus the women perhaps, then that's her business."

A number of the other women were regarding Meryl with look akin to the stare one might have if ones dog suddenly stood on its hindlegs and started reciting string theory.

"Just don't expect me to carry her inebriated carcass home afterward," Meryl added. "I get enough of that just doing my job."

"You have a job where you carry drunkards home in the middle of the night?" Mellisandra leapt on it.

"Just one," Meryl said shortly. "And that isn't the point. I never thought I'd ever actually say this, but I agree with Step Mother, Mel. Not on that whole lady-like double standard non-sense of course, but I believe it unwise for you to go out and get inebriated in the company of strange men who get paid to take their clothes off. You don't know them and they can't be trusted. They could take advantage of you, not to mention the fact that you're wasting your money throwing it down some guys pants, where is your dignity?"

Millie blinked, it looked like Meryl had decided to haul out her Big Sis pants and go into lecture mode.

"It's not like I'm going to be alone, all the other bridesmaids will be there too," Mellisandra argued sullenly. She smiled up at Meryl. "I'll have you there to make sure things don't get too out of hand, how's that?"

"I'm not going," Meryl said shortly. "If you're going to make a fool of yourself don't expect to drag me along with you."

"You're a bridesmaid," Mellisandra pointed out. "It's mandatory."

"I was conscripted against my will," Meryl muttered.

"And that reminds me, Meryl," the stepmother cut in. "You have your final fitting today in an hour so don't be late. Plus there's the wedding dinner later on tonight."

"That's tonight?" Meryl said. "I didn't see it posted on the agenda."

"You were looking at the old copy," Mellisandra said. "We had to move it up because the regimen will be leaving town in a day, and the officers are making up a large portion of the guest list."

"The staff must be going crazy right now," Meryl muttered. A full six course formal dinner plus preparations for the ball held afterward crammed together in the space of a few hours? It was a logistical nightmare.

"We have things in hand," her mother replied, her tone however suggested that Meryl's assertion was closer to the truth.

"I guess I'll have to give it a miss," Meryl said with mock regret. "No ball gown. Oh dear." She didn't sound terribly unhappy about it, rather the reverse being true.

"It's already been taken care of," her step mother assured her with poisonous sweetness. "The seamstress we visited yesterday was able to put a rush on it and it should be ready in time for tonight. You will be there."

Meryl wasn't able to supress a disappointed slump.

Vash peered carefully around the corner, recon was crucial to a successful mission after all. The hallway was clear but for one figure, unfortunately the entrance to his objective had a guard posted.

I hope my source was accurate, he thought to himself. But the source of his information hadn't known that he'd overheard their conversation involving the reluctant sister of the bride and her unasked-for appointment with the seamstress for a final fitting. They'd said it was supposed to take place at this time, and he was sure the room number was right.

He peeked around the corner again, assessing the quality of the guard they had posted; after a long assessing look he decided not to risk it. They seemed to have found the single lone she-dragon in this hive and set her to guarding the House's greatest treasure. Vash was a brave knight, but contrary to popular opinion, he wasn't stupid.

Looks like I'll have to find a rope and hit the rooftops, he grumbled to himself. He paused to reconsider however; aside of having a she-dragon guarding the door, the princess usually had her eerily perceptive "handmaiden" along with her and Vash didn't know if Millie would fall for his excuse of patrolling the roof for spooks a second time.

"Ah! There you are, boy!" an elderly, but still hale and healthy voice called from the other end of the hallway. Vash shot to immediate guilty attention and tried not to look like he was doing exactly what he was doing.

"I was just looking for the bathroom!" Vash said, trying not to sound panicked.

"Wrong hallway, down the one on your left boy," the old man rumbled, eying him searchingly. Vash put on his best disarming sheepish face and scratched the back of his head.

"Oh yeah, thanks," he laughed nervously. "I get so lost in this place y'know?"

"I was wondering if i could ask you a favor," the man continued, coming to the matter that had apparently led him to seek Vash out in the first place.

"Oh, sure," Vash said, relaxing a little since "Artie" had apparently bought his story. "Ask away."

"A couple of the young officers had to leave a little early for their next posting so there's a few holes in the guest list. Claire's a little beside herself at the gaps in the table so I was wondering if you and your brother would be so kind as to fill the spaces."

"I, uh, I can't answer for Knives but I'd be happy to uh, help out," Vash said.

Free food, and Short Girl in a ball gown! he thought ecstatically. Could this trip get any better?

"Good, good, I knew I could count on you. You seem like such an upstanding, gentlemanly young man," he paused a beat and continued with a sharp gaze. "...Who wouldn't even think about trying to peek in on my grandaughter while she's getting fitted for her dresses."

"No sir!" he snapped even straighter. "Wouldn't dream of it! Heh heh heh...hahahahaha..." then he started laughing nervously but unfortunately it came out as the really high-pitched nervous one, and the old man shook his head and continued on his way.

Damn, now I know where Short Girl gets it from, Vash thought ruefully to himself.

He might as well just head back to his quarters and stay with his brother until the evening, lord knew he didn't want to get conscripted into some wedding related thing like hanging doilies or whatever. Those bridesmaids were a little scary, with their high-pitched squealy voices and their giggling and cries of "oh that's adorable!" There was only so much a reasonable man could be expected to take. No, sometimes his brother's unsociable behavior was just what the situation called for.

He was passing down one of the plain utilitarian servants halls on his way to the suite he shared with his brother when he caught the sound of two voices speaking in tones not meant to be overheard. Instinct prompted him to freeze and listen, his life had been saved on many occasions simply by his being aware of others around him acting in a stealthy manner.

"And he wants it done out of sight, no witnesses?" one voice said. It wasn't a particularly deep voice, but it did have a hard edge to it that Vash immediately mistrusted.

"Quietly," another voice confirmed. Mediocre with a soft quality to it and the accent of arrogance.

"Quietly costs extra, from all I hear she's a loud woman and the place will be crawling with soldiers, why not wait a few days, the wedding will be over with then and all the regimen will be gone. She investigates disasters for a living so it should be easy to pick her off without arousing suspicion."

"The master says she's got a Sword of Damocles on him, proof that his practices and the programs him and his heir to be intend to put into place are less than beneficial to the sands around them. She's threatened to take the proof to the marshals and let them tear apart the operation in three days time, we need her eliminated before then."

Vash closed his eyes and cursed inwardly. He didn't know whether to bless her foresight or curse her strait-forwardness. But she couldn't have known, not really, how ruthless the men she was dealing with could get. With all of the guests in the house for the wedding there were people coming and going at all hours and no-one would notice an extra body in the area. A poison slipped surreptitiously into her tea, a dart shot at her from hiding, a knife hidden in the shadows... many and varied forms of death could be arranged in secret for a price. this guy probably wasn't the only assassin being contacted if those roughnecks form earlier this morning were anything to judge by. No there was probably a posting on the grey lists, the lists of unofficial bounties and assassin marks for the private sector available for an exorbitant rate, by one interested party if not both of them.

This is a nightmare! he thought in dismay. This place is crawling with armed personel, not the least of which work directly for one of the men trying to kill her. Vash would have wondered why the groom wouldn't have ordered some of his own muscle to "take care of her" if the answer hadn't been glaringly obvious; if public suspicion fell on one of his employees, Mori-Korin stood a chance of being ousted from the wedding if not the will.

"It's done," the steely voiced one said.

Like hell, Vash thought protectively. It was usually his style to wait until danger came to him and then do something about it, but he was in the mood right then to tear a page form the book of Meryl, and run some preventative measures. He walked right around the corner and nearly into the two of them with his best innocent country-boy look. He smiled stupidly at them and exclaimed

"Hey there fellas! I was just looking for the bathroom, you wouldn't happen to have seen it anywhere around here would you have?"

The two men, one of them a man dressed in the livery of one of th House upper servants, perhaps even the master's Valet, and the other a man dressed in non-descript business suit with a concealed weapon of the handgun variety from what Vash could make out of the outline in his shirt exchanged along glance with each other as if to ask "do you think he heard?"

"I didn't mean to interrupt your evil plot or anything," he confirmed waving a hand dismissively at the both of them, still smiling. "Go ahead and finish up your little contract. Mum's the word, I promise."

As one they both turned on him. The butler was reaching into the vest of his livery and pulling out throwing knives like he knew what to do with them, the assassin was echoing the move on the right and they were both looking like getting rid of Vash was going to be taken care of before they moved on to their real target.

What kinda man is her father that he's got a professional assassin for a butler?! Vash wondered in dismay as he turned to run. A knife thunked into the wall beside him as he dodged round a corner. The assassin was screwing on a silencer to the end of his gun, feeling that one bullet ought to do it, clearly allowing his temporary partner to run his prey into the ground and then take the shot when Vash was tired enough to make a mistake.

Taking stock; don't have a gun, don't have cover, can't get near the main rooms or they'll fire on the crowd and--

-Honestly brother, I cannot leave you be for a second,- Knives voice came deep in his mind, laced with annoyance and boredom. The two pursuants froze in place their muscles locked.

-Are you doing that?- Vash asked, already knowing the answer.

-It's not harming them, nor is it allowing them to harm others, therefore it falls neatly outside of the geas you have placed upon me dear brother,- Knives replied.

Vash felt the flash of annoyance Knives had at his powers and choices being hemmed in by the geas that Vash had placed on Knives while he was still recovering and unaware. Knives was not allowed to kill another human, or by inaction allow another human to come to harm, but he could defend himself and his friends as long as that rule was not violated.

-Well thanks!- Vash thought brightly, perhaps having his brother around wasn't so bad after all!

-I heard that,- Knives grumbled. -I will erase their memories now. It would be inconveinient for us if they knew that there was anything out of the ordinary about you. I will even be generous and erase their memories of this meeting so that your smaller Human Servant is not pestered with their attempts on her life.-

-Knives! Don't erase their memories!- Vash immediately protested.

-Hm, for once you may have the more sensible course of action brother,- Knives said approvingly. -If I prevent these two from thier assassination attempts, then likely the servant will simply find another that we do not know of.-

-Well that too, but what I meant was that it was wrong to fool around with peoples minds like that,- Vash clarified.

The snorting sound that Knives made in return was all it took to show his opinion on Vash's assertion, as well as the old difference of opinion between them regarding what constituted a moral action. Vash sensed the mental twisting a reweaving that Knives executed with practiced finesse on their minds and took himself off to another place so that he was not within the area when they regained control of their senses.

Well, Short Girl's in trouble, he thought. Her father wants her dead, and so does the ex, and they have the money to hire guys to make that happen. This place is probably already crawling with people who want to kill her, or if it isn't it soon will be.

He should tell her about the plans against her life, she and Milly both deserved to know.And if they knew about the threat they could probably be convinced to clear the area, wedding or no wedding. Meryl wasn't a coward, the fact that she'd stuck by his side this long was a testament to that, but she had a fine sense of when the collateral damages would be far more costly than the fight itself. She usually chose to back off and take a different route; to pick her battles as the saying went. Vash reversed course and set out to the room Millie shared with Meryl, with any luck they'd both be there (with even better luck, Meryl would be changing again!) but even if they weren't he could leave a message with Millie for the two of them to keep an eye out.

And even if she can't leave tonight, I'll at least be there to keep an eye on things, Vash consoled himself.

& & & &

& & & &

_A.N. Well, it looks like it's been a long time since I last posted anything. Now that I am studies free for a little while, I thought I'd take the time to post up the latest chapter of this baby. I'm always a little surprised by how well received this story is, because for me, this one's only sort of a fun time waster until I get around to perfecting the fic I really want to write. The other one is coming along well by the way if anyone's curious, I was thinking about posting a preveiw to it at the bottom of this fic, give me a shout out if anyone's interested._

**P.S. If anyone can tell me what all of the chapter titles in this fic including the main title have in common, they will win a free fic of any genre dedicated them in which they get to call the key subject. Contest closes on May 28th. Good luck!**


	11. Wildflower

As fate would have it, Vash hadn't been able to get a moment alone with either Millie or Meryl before the fete that evening. Millie volunteered to help out the overworked and panicked staff get things in place for the dinner and ball that evening and was kept busy at that for the rest of the day, and when Meryl returned to her quarters Vash was summarily thrown out on his ear by that she-dragon of a maid so that she could be prepared for the dinner that night.

"I have to talk with you as soon as possible," Vash had managed to say to her before he was tossed out of her bedroom. He'd seen Meryl nod quickly before the door was shut firmly in his face by the scowling she-dragon.

Directly following that one of the household servants had been given orders by the Grandfather to track Vash down and take him back to his quarters to be cleaned up and changed into evening wear fro the evening. It wasn't a tux, but the suit he had been stuffed into with all the ceremony of a little girl dressing her dolly was a nice one, it wasn't black thankfully so he didn't feel like he was impersonating Wolfwood every time he looked down at himself (what kind of an idiot wore _black _in the desert anyway? it was a sure-fire way to get heat stroke!). The jacket and pants were light grey, the silk undershirt was white and the tie a violet so dark that it was almost black. The thing had been tailored to fit him (which spoke of planning ahead of time, which spoke of some kind of set up) and it was difficult to move his arms, but Knives assured him that that was how he knew it fit him well. Vash was wondering where he was supposed to hide a gun without a shoulder holster.

The bridal dinner and ball was to be held out under the stars on the immense stone patio to the fore of the hedge maze and gardens at the back of the grand residence. The place had been lit up like a fairy garden with lights on strings and paper lanterns hung from poles and the lowest branches of an enormous oak tree in the right-hand side of the garden. One side of the vast flagstone patio was taken up by an enormous set of three tables arranged in a squared off U-shape and set up to host the immense dinner. Laid out with a pristine white table cloth, long tapered candles lit the dinner with their warm, soft romantic golden glow, sparkling off from spotless crystal goblets with gold rims, gold cutlery and elegant white flatware with gold rims.

Guests already mingled with one another in knots and cues, flowing from one to the other like tides in a cave pool, all chatting and laughing with one another. Ladies flowed about, swan-like in their elegant ball gowns attended by young officers in their formal uniforms with decorative sabers at their sides. Their smiles and conversation were as sparkling at the light glinting off the tasteful jewelry they wore. It was like something out of a painting or an old vid. Vash felt awkward and out of place, and suddenly understood what it felt like to be the new kid in high school standing in the cafeteria with a lunch tray in his hand looking for an acceptable place to sit down and eat.

He was saved by a friendly greeting from Artie and a beckoning gesture to come over and talk with his friends. Arthur and his friends were all old retired military, in fact, Vash nervously thought that he might have recognized one or two of them but perhaps that was just paranoia speaking. They talked about their wives and the hunts they planned on making that season and about the degenerate politicians in New Geneva... reassuringly mundane chatter from older gentlemen. Vash was soon put at ease, but it sure was taking a while for Meryl to get to the party, what, had she had to powder her nose and fell in?

The bride and groom were at the center of things, with the biggest knot of sycophants and hangers on that Vash had seen in quite some time. He knew one place where he wasn't going to be intruding in. For one thing, he was bound to get lost in the teeming mass of ruffles. And then there was the lace and the lace with ruffles, was there and unwritten rule somewhere that said ball gowns came in ruffles? He kind of thought they looked silly.

He kept his attention halfway on the guests he was knotted in with, but most of his attention was occupied by trying to keep a lookout for trouble, surreptitious activity, covert gestures or shielded movements. One of the assassins might very well be at this party, and if so, it was his job to make sure that the killer didn't get anywhere near Meryl. The reason he'd come down early was so he could get the layout and a look at the guests faces. He didn't think they'd try anything like putting poison in the punch because there was just one target and it wouldn't make sense to take out the entire guest roster, for one thing it would put a serious damper on her hosts reputation. They might try slipping something into her food, but Vash figured he had that covered he was quick enough to where he could switch the dishes and no-one would notice (he might act like a klutz most of the time, but an act was all it was).

He was busy enough scanning the room that he almost missed her entrance. There was not a single pause in the movement of the gathering when Meryl appeared on the top of the stone steps leading out into the garden, none of the conversations stopped to look at the new entrant, no-one stared or made a fuss, but for Vash it felt like the world stood still for just a second. She looked _incredible_.

The dress had no sleeves, he actually got to see what her shoulders looked like! In a sea of cleavage, Meryl was an elegant reminder of the simple sexiness of the clavicle. The top of the strapless ball gown hugged her torso and hips like a jealous lover and the rest of the gown flowed down in a clean elegant line to her toes. Her dress was dark violet at the top of the torso that gradually paled in color to a soft lilac at her feet and there was a soft misty grey sheer layer over the skirt that matched the sheer wrap folder over her arms. The top edge of the bust was beaded in a rainfall pattern flowing down in strands to her waist of tiny hematite beads the scintillated in the light.

It was strange how a simple dress and a moonlit night could change a person from someone he spent time with everyday into some new mysterious creature that he was suddenly afraid to touch. She looked so elegant and fragile, like a perfect blossom put on display, meant to be admired but would wilt at the least handling. It was hard to reconcile that image with the image the tough woman he knew she was, who could fire an enormous stun-gun with her feet, didn't flinch at the most disastrous dangers, and thought that having the sandsteamer she was on robbed by bandits (and she, him and Milly taking care of the problem) was commonplace. She did look beautiful though, Vash knew he had to compliment her, tell her how beautiful she looked but when he tried to think of something words failed him and he could only just stare. Her pale skin seemed to glow as if lit from within in the moonlight and the soft curves and angles of her face looked like some fae creature from out of a fairytale come to life.

Meryl paused at the top of the steps, scanning the crowd for a moment and when her eyes met with his she looked relieved. She made straight for him, by-passing quickly several young officers who suddenly noticed her passing them and looked like they would have simply loved to detain her to talk with them for a while. She didn't even glance over at them, Vash thought she might not have even noticed they were there (or likely cared if she had noticed).

"Well, don't you look sharp," she complimented him when she reached his side, taking him in in one long sweeping appraising look. There was a long pause, Vash panicked when he tried to think of something to say but couldn't. Crap! Why did this always happen to him? If he tried one of his usual corny pick up lines on her, he knew she'd sense it and it would hurt her feelings for not being genuine but he had to say something!

"Vash?" she asked a moment later, looking up at him in concern. "Are you okay?"

He tried desperately this time to just say something! All that came out of his throat were inarticulate "uh, er, um" sounds. And he was still staring! Suddenly a smile that just took away any ability he might have had to think for the rest of the evening lit her face up, even her eyes sparkled. That was it, that was all she wrote, Vash the Stampede was officially a drooling staring idiot for the rest of the evening.

"This is surely a moment that will go down in history," she smiled up at him. "I've actually managed to render you speechless."

Worse and worse! Meryl was never a woman who would let go of an advantage; she'd seen right into his weakness and was fully prepared to tease him about it. However a moment later, contrary to his expectations, she showed him a little mercy and turned her attentions to the knot of people Vash was gathered with; her grandfather and all of his old friends. She tucked her arm firmly in his and turned away from the younger crowd in the rest of the room to turn her sparkling regard on a bunch of retired old men. Apparently they had been friends with her when she'd been a child.

"Strange," Arthur remarked when he'd taken in Meryl's dress. "That doesn't look like the dress your stepmother arranged for you to have for the evening."

Meryl mock shuddered in reply and said

"That thing was a travesty in chiffon. I looked like some purple frosted cupcake. So I attacked it with a pair of scissors and an airbrush. Believe me when I say it had it coming. Sometimes I think she goes out of her way to find me the most hideous concoctions to wear to these things just to embarrass me." Meryl shrugged and neatly plucked up a flute of champagne with a raspberry bobbing in it and handed it to Vash.

"I'll take the raspberry though," she said to his questioning look. Vash, seeing an opening at last cleverly said

"Only if you're willing to go after it."

She raised an eyebrow and looked amused.

"Smooth," she complimented. "Very smooth."

Meryl introduced Vash around to her grandfathers circle, introducing this one as General so-and-so of the ninth brigade and he'd taught her to play chess as a child and that one as Major so-and-so of Becker Territory's militia and he used to tell her stories. That one was a former explorer and this one was a former senator and they had all kept her amused at parties when she'd been a young girl. Looking sideways at her, Vash got the impression of a precocious and intelligent young lady. Even now she was more interested in talking politics and the recent military exercises than she was in mingling with the rest of the people her age. It was a little sad in some ways, but he decided that Meryl just wouldn't be Meryl if she were interested in the same things that all these other pretty flowers seemed to be interested in, fashion and gowns and who's daughter or son was coming out that season.

"Pardon me for intruding," Marianne said from the edge of their crowd just as the elderly explorer was getting to the good part in his yarn about the time when he'd discovered a derelict ship out in the wastes that had a fully operational defense grid.

"I may just die of boredom out there if I don't hear some intelligent conversation soon," she explained. She looked as lovely as ever in a powder blue gown with white chiffon ruffles and tiny sparkling bits of silver woven into it to catch the light at the odd interval. The old gentlemen quickly reassured her that she wasn't bothering anyone and she was made to feel welcome there.

Contrary to what Vash had expected there was no feminine by-play between Meryl and Marianne, often when a new woman intruded on a group there was usually some kind of interaction to see where the other stood, but Meryl didn't seem to care one way or the other about her (though Vash would have liked it if she'd gotten a little jealous).

The old man was about to return to his tale when a smart young officer with a nearly trimmed mustache and a perfectly turned uniform walked up to the group and got his girls attention by touching Meryl's arm to ask her if she would like to dance. She stiffened at the familiarity of the contact; Meryl did not like having her exquisite self handled.

"May I have this dance?" the young officer asked. Vash was pleased to note that the guy was shorter than Vash by a head (though it was kind of annoying to note that when compared to Short Girl he made her look slightly less like a doll).

Vash put a hand lightly on the one she had tucked through his arm, signaling tacitly that he would like it if she'd stay at his side. He hadn't been able to tell her yet that there was a threat against her life (too many people around to get a quiet moment to break the news). He certainly wouldn't be able to guard her as well if she was twirling around the dance floor in some strangers arms, assuming that the stranger wasn't the assassin hired to kill her in the first place.

"No thank-you," she said politely, shifting just a little closer to Vash. "I am already engaged." Then she turned back to where the older explorer gentleman was telling his tale that she'd probably already heard at least a dozen times.

"Then can I get you something to drink?" the young man insisted. Vash immediately felt suspicions of him and "opened" his senses, his extra senses, to get a reading on the young man. Somewhat to Vash's disappointment, the young officer was nothing more than merely an earnest young man, shorter than most of the guys in his regiment, that saw a very pretty young woman who wasn't tall enough look him directly in the eyes when they danced. He was most put out that she'd found such a tall partner for the evening, he thought Vash wouldn't look nearly so well with her height as _he_ would.

"Thank-you, no," she declined politely. "I've just finished one." A lie, but Vash knew Meryl wasn't much of a drinker. She was more along the lines of a tea-totaler.

"I see," he said, disappointedly. "Well, if there is anything you should need please call on me."

Meryl smiled her bright, false beaming smile at him, the one she used when she didn't mean it but wanted to make a favorable impression anyway, and assured him that she would.

"You should dance, my dear," her grandfather remarked, once the young officer was out of earshot.

"You know I have two left feet," she replied, blushing a little at having to admit that there was something she didn't do well out loud.

"It's not healthy for a young woman your age to be so unsociable," her grandfather replied to that.

"I'm not unsociable," she defended. "I'm... " she fished for a good synonym that didn't mean unsociable. "I'm sensible."

Arthur didn't look like he was buying it, but he left it alone. Apparently he was well accustomed to her peculiarities. Vash wasn't going to argue with her either, for one thing she was here with him instead of out there with someone else. And she was still a target. Vash couldn't sense anyone in the crowd that might have harmful intentions towards her, but just because Vash couldn't sense him didn't mean that he wasn't there either. Many assassins had other abilities than simple training that helped them make it in their line of work.

An hour of amiable chatter later, dinner was called and they were all seated. Thus began one of the oddest hours of Vash's life. He had to find new ways, with every course, to distract people's attention long enough so that he could switch out his plate or bowl of food with Meryl's before she could eat it, and do it in such a way that no-one suspected him. Oddly enough, his brother helped him with that. Knives seemed to find it amusing to use his telekinetic powers to stir up trouble and confusion ofr a crucial few seconds by doing things like knocking one of the candles into the oil-shaker for the salad or causing a tray of the kabob skewers to accidentally fly up into the air and all of them stick skewer-side-into the enormous sugared-confection centerpiece of the bride and groom in all of their glory. Anarchist.

The skewering distraction had had Meryl in transports of mirth anyway. They'd looked remarkably like sugared cacti by the time Knives was done with them. Even Vash had to admit that, despite the rather disturbing imagery, it was pretty funny... in a macabre sort of way.

Meryl leaned down over to him and quietly asked

"Are you doing that?"

To which Vash could honestly reply

"Nope."

"Oh, so I guess it's just a coincidence then," she said, not seeming to buy his innocence in the odd string of coincidences that had nearly been disasters that evening.

"Must be," he replied. "You know how trouble likes to follow me around."

"I guess so," she said nodding to herself. It looked like she bought it.

He was relieved when the toasts were finally called, that meant that, after the toasts and a final mandatory dance, they could retire gracefully for the evening. The party itself would probably keep going on well into the night, but for them it was almost over. There were many long-winded well wishes from family members, friends, and sycophants alike; the speech from Meryl's father was particularly pompous. Vash was still having a hard time believing that the guy could possibly have called a hit on his daughter and still stand up there wishing everyones health. He didn't seem to be acting suspiciously...

Vash frowned a little, he could read a man like this as easily as anyone could read a page of printed text, and the guy just wasn't acting like he expected anything to happen tonight. He wasn't glancing around him expectantly, wasn't exchanging any surreptitious looks with anyone. No real sweat or increased heart rate, he wasn't glancing covertly over at Meryl so see if anything was happening to her yet, he didn't even look particularly smug or self-satisfied... not more so than usual anyway. Strange, very strange.

The bride-and-groom-to-be led everyone else out onto the floor for the mandatory waltz after dinner. Meryl actually looked nervous as he put a hand at her waist and took her other one in his.

"I hope I don't step on your feet," she whispered. "I haven't done this in a while."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he reassured her.

It was a good thing that Vash already had a will of iron, because it was taking everything he had to be a perfect gentleman. For one thing, his mama had raised him better than to grope a girl during a dance, and for another thing (and probably more importantly) he didn't want to piss her off. She was a force of nature when she was angry, they called him the Humanoid Typhoon, but he was pretty sure that he had nothing on her when she got mad. So he did _not_ squeeze her waist, nor did he hold her closer than was necessary for the duration of the dance. The way she smiled up at him made the self-control more than worth it.

She wasn't as bad a dancer as she feared she was, Vash had to only make minimal adjustments and he was easily sweeping her around the floor. The light vanilla and lilac scent of her skin combined with the soft warmth of the evening was a heady brew and he felt oddly giddy with it. The soft pale moon-glow on her skin sheathed in that wispy, mist of a dress and that beautiful smile she kept beaming up at him made him wish the dance would never end. It was in a word, _romantic_.

"I say, do you mind if I cut in," the young officer from before said tapping him on the shoulder (he had to reach up to do so, Vash was pleased to note).

"As a matter of fact I do," Vash replied brusquely. "Scram."

Meryl gave the officer a slightly apologetic look, but Vash noted from the way her hand squeezed his that she wasn't really sorry she was just trying to spare the young man's feelings, and allowed herself to be swept back off into the crowd again.

They hadn't encountered the person who was supposedly there to kill her, but Vash didn't want to take any chances with her safety, even though it meant cutting the evening short. He started slowly making his way toward the edge of the crowd in the back, towards the neat topiary hedge-maze laid out in the garden. Vash swallowed nervously as he glanced around to make certain that no-one was looking over at them at the moment, and then swept her into the man-high hedges and ducked out of sight.

"What are y-" she stated to ask, but he laid a finger athwart her lips, signaling for silence. There was a question in her eyes but she quieted, trusting him. Vash looked around and opened up his senses, there was no-one near the two of them. He took her hand and led her deeper into the hedge maze, which was surprisingly sizable.

"Is there someplace safe and hidden?" he asked her. "Someplace that it's unlikely to be stumbled on by a drunken party guest."

She looked at him measuringly for a long moment, clearly trying to discern his motives behind asking, but seemed to decide that he wouldn't have asked without a good reason so she shrugged and said

"I know most of the secret hiding places in this rats warren. There is one nearby, but with the two of us, it might be a bit of a squeeze."

She led him through the hedge maze, past the rest of the gardens and near a side building that held garden tools and fertilizer. On the other side of the garden shack was another little shack that seemed to hold extra bits of leather and odds and ends; worn out tomas saddles, extra hunting gear, bits of broken handles, fencing wire and the like. She moved a stack of empty wooden crates partly covered by a tarp to reveal a strangely scratched space in the stone flooring; it had several long grooves in it, like someone had taken something really sharp and heavy and scored the tiles with it. Meryl knelt in the dust in her lilac fairy-dress and slammed the heel of her hand hard against one of the stone tiles, then another and then another, and with a grunt of effort, slid one tile over and another down.

"I found out about this place once when I was on the run from my governess when I was ten," she said quietly. "The code on it is just like another one on a wall somewhere else that my grandfather showed me when I was little. He thinks that it was made during the days of prohibition about eighty years ago or so."

Vash snorted ridicule in remembrance at the folly. Some of the territories decided that people were a little too interested in drinking whiskey and having shootouts and barroom brawls so they'd actually tried to outlaw alcohol consumption. Of course, that had only led to bootlegging, faster cars and wilder bandits.

"I remember that time," Vash said in reminiscence. "Boy, you should have seen what some of those guys did to their cars. I knew this one bootlegger who souped up the engine of his car so that he'd never been caught. They called him Dead-Lightning because he could hit a temshwee bird on the wing, in the head, going at a hundred and twenty."

Her eyes widened and she stared at him in disbelief.

"You... you actually _knew_ Dead-Lightning?!"

"Heck yeah, I helped him fix his engine," Vash said, smiling.

"Why am I not surprised that you were involved in bootlegging Mister Vash the Stampede," Meryl said wryly as she turned to descend the ladder into the little hidey-hole.

"Way I see it, you have no room to cast stones, it looks like your own ancestors weren't always so fanatically on the straight and narrow Miss Insurance Girl," he taunted back.

"You can come down now, I'm clear," she said. "And what my ancestors did or did not do with regards to their own alcoholic or law abiding preferences has nothing to do with me."

Vash started to descend the ladder into the little mini-cavelet underneath the storage facility, pulling the slab of stone back over to cover up the hole and the room was abruptly smothered in inky black darkness so thick he literally could not see his own hands in front of his face.

"Hope it still works," she muttered. A moment later the darkness receded to be replaced with a soft blue-white glow lighting up the pale cream of Meryl's skin and casting strange uneven shadows on the rough-hewn stone walls. Clearly it was an older part of the establishment.

"Where does that lead?" Vash asked a moment later, spying an incongruously smooth an unweathered metal door placed inside an otherwise rough and privative-looking structure.

"I don't know," Meryl said honestly. "I was never able to get it to open."

Vash went over to look at it more closely, and was both surprised and unsurprised to note that it was a mechanical door from an old SEEDs ship. Probably brought here and repurposed. Gunsmoke was always a mix-mash of the old-fashioned and the truly old pieces of technology.

"So, what did you ask me to bring you here for?" Meryl asked curiously. "I assume it was something that couldn't be discussed in public."

Mystery door forgotten for the moment as Vash looked over at her, looking more beautiful than ever in her now slightly rumpled dress with a tempting streak of dirt on one shoulder.

"Who says I didn't simply want to get you alone?" he asked, brazenly flirting with her. And it wasn't like it was a _lie_, he'd been wanting to get her alone since he'd first seen her walking down into the gardens for dinner, and not _just_ because there were assassins after her.

She looked taken aback by his statement, and looked cautiously over at him from the corner of her eye. He gave her his best billion watt disarming smile and she relaxed a little. He didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed, and was more than a little tempted to open his senses up a little and get a reading on her. Suddenly there came a smile to her face that looked, more than a little mischievous.

"Well now, mister _infamous_ outlaw," she said with a little smile that was doing funny things to his insides. "Now that you have me alone, in a place where no-one will find us at an inconvenient moment, and sound doesn't travel..."

There was a strange sway to her walk that he'd never seen her use before as she approached him. He just stood there, mesmerized by the way her hips moved as she got closer and closer to him. The silk of her gown was a whisper in the silence when she abruptly pressed herself up to him. The soft, sweet scent of her skin, mixed with the light perfume she wore for that evening surrounded him, drugging him with passion kept too long hidden and suppressed. His heartbeat sped up faster than it ever had when he'd been in fear of his life and his arms moved of their own accord, like lodestones to iron, to wrap around her and hold her close. She was so tiny, but his senses and his instincts told him that she was _all_ woman.

"What are you going to do with me?" she whispered.

His reply was to capture her lips with his own.

End Ch 11

**Well, here it is, chapter eleven and what an awful place to leave off eh? To be honest I've had this written for a little over a week and a half, I was just too lazy to run through and do the final spell-checking and formatting to post it. Sorry. Respond to prodding so if anyone wants to leave a review reminding me to get my butt in gear and edit the next chapter for posting they are more than welcome to do so. Or, well y'know, any review would be good too. I mentioned last post that the story I'm _really _working on (Home is being written more or less for sh!ts and giggles) could use a run-through. I'm still not sure about the opening chapter or whether it needs a prologue, so I'm going to preview what I'm looking at as making the opening chapter at the end of this, and it would be wonderful if I could get some feedback. It's the bit in italics.**

_She'd taken one look at him when he strode triumphantly into town with the body of his most troublesome and thankfully still unconscious brother slung over his shoulder like so much baggage and ordered him directly to his bed for some rest._

_"You look exhausted, go sleep," she'd said. "Milly and I will take care fo the rest."_

_He'd almost protested but she'd silenced him with one of her trademark 'argument is futile and if you know what's good for you you'll smile and nod' looks and he'd just decided to thank her for her kindness and do as she said. Space was at a premium in their little house but even so it seemed that the ever-together Meryl had managed to anticipate him. Two small beds, little more than cots with extra padding really, were laid out side by side in the room that had once had only his own bed in it. He laid his brother carefully into the cot farthest from the door resisting the dual temptaions of just tossing him off his shoulder (Knives was very heavy) and tieing him down so he couldn't sneak off and start the battle over again (Knives wouldn't let just a little rope stop him if he was detirmined to win free, and the attempt would likely just piss him off further)._

_**So now what**? Vash wondered as he flopped into his own cot with a feeling of such releif. His body was exhausted but over a century of having to keep his instincts alert and his senses sharp for the first hint of threat wouldn't let his mind quiet down the way he wanted it to._

_He'd won the fight but the war might just be far from over, that all depended on what Knives did when he woke up. However Vash was tired of taking things as they came, there had to be something he could do ahead of time. Something he could do to prepare. Meryl and Millie were human; if Knives woke up in a mood there was a more than distinct possibility that he would take control of one or both of them, just as he had taken control of those poor villagers and make them do things against their will, possibly even use them to hurt Vash._

_**I hate to think so ill of my brother, but long experience has shown me that Knives likes to take the the devious route. It would be in keeping with him to make them kill themselves or each other in front of me when I'm unable to stop them**._

_If having perfect strangers killed before his eyes was horrifying for him, having people he truly cared about killed in the same manner was something from out of a nightmare. He'd suffered horribly when Rem had died, to this day he still suffered the loss of her but..._

_**Mind back on track**, he reminded himself. He found he was always easily distracted when the subject he needed to think about was one he really didn't want to. What to do with and/or about Knives was a big question. Vash was rather hoping that his brother might have seen the light or at least be willing somehow to meet him halfway._

_**He doesn't have to like people... he could just leave them alone**, Vash thought hopefully. Vash would even be willing to give up his wandering ways, even (gulp) settle permanently in a place far away from anyone or anything else, maybe some abandoned ship or the like. He wouldn't be happy about it, but if it kept Knives from continuing in his attempt to destroy mankind he'd do it and feel relieved._

_I** don't wanna live out in the middle of nowhere with my psycho brother though**, he thought plaintively. He liked being around people, especially kids. He'd always imagined having a few of his own one day "once all this was over" (that had been a mantra he'd pinned his hopes on for the better part of a century). On the seeds ship he'd enjoyed being with his twin but he'd still had Rem around and had enjoyed her company too._

_T**hat was before Knives went crazy,** he admitted. They hadn't gotten on well (understatement much?) since he and the rest of humanity had crash-landed on this dustball. Having his brother kill his only other friend and parental-guidance figure had put an understandable strain on their relationship._

_**And then there's... her,** he thought, at last allowing his mind to alight on the thought it had been circling round like a moth fluttering near its chosen flame. _

_She had given him such a look on his return, all joy and relief and tenderness, he had been so taken aback by it he'd nearly tripped and dropped his brother. Vash was an old hand at reading people and Meryl wasn't so difficult to read once you knew what to look for. Oh, she was still a tough nut; she played her cards close to her chest and didn't go giving herself away at the drop of a coin. That was why the soft look had taken him so completely by surprise, for her to be so open (well, open for Meryl anyway) had to mean she'd realized how she felt and had come to some kind of decision for herself._

_**Now what to do about that,** he wondered. He'd known for a while that Meryls attachment to him had to go beyond an insurance girl just doing her job, no matter how he'd tried to tell her not to get involved she was right there in the thick of things helping him as she could. He didn't know how things would have turned out after That Day... the day he'd killed Legato, if she and Milly hadn't been there for him._

_**I suppose I have several options open... hopefully anyway**._

_First, he could ignore it. That would usually be his chosen method, emotional entanglements were something he avoided (despite his skirt-chasing ways) seeing as he had his own personal Sword of Damocles (or was it the Rock of Demosthenes?) hanging over his head in the form of his twin brother and all those Gung-Ho assholes Knives had set on him. But now the matter was settled, or about to be anyway and he had options open to him that he had kept firmly closed before._

_That left reciprocation. It was chancey, and problematic. Chancey because he had never let himself feel those sorts of feelings for a woman before simply because he knew for certain it would eventually be used against him, and also because of who he was (a walking disaster) he just knew was bound to screw it up somehow. _

_Problematic because... well it just was. Knives wouldn't be in favor of the idea (probably another massive understatment) but Vash was tired of planning his life around his twin. He wanted a life of his own dammit! He wanted to be happy. _

_**I don't actually want much out of life,** he thought morosely. A** pretty wife, lots of kids, maybe a dog. Nah I don't like dogs.**_

_With or without the dog, the universe seemed detirmined to deny him his simple wish. The bounty on his head was only one factor, his brother yet another (rather huge and all consuming factor) but Vash was begining to suspect that he just had rotten luck. _

_I**'ve given home, happiness, and even mild contentment to make sure people are happy and safe. I have scars on my body that make me look like Doctor Frankenstein's monster. I've endured crazed lunatics trained as assassins out for my blood, federal marshals with obsessive grudges against me and an entire herd of sandworms trying to eat me... I think I've earned a little peace, I think I deserve some happiness.**_

_It was still a problem however... Even though he'd defeated him; Vash's brother Knives was still a factor. Knives didn't need to be able to hold a gun to be effective, he could wipe out an entire town from his bed using only the powers of his mind (or more accurately, force an entire town to wipe itself out)._

_**What was I thinking?**! Vash berated himself, feeling fear hit him like cold water, sending a shockwave through him. The memories of exactly what his brother was capale of called themselves up with startling clarity in his minds eye. _

_**I should never have come back here, never even have brought him back here, I've put the girl's lives in danger**. He wished with a small pang that his friend Wolfwood were there. Sure, he wasn't exactly forgiving and pacifisty (in fact he'd probably have told Vash to put a bullet in his brother's head, or done it himself) but Vash had never had anyone else he'd trusted as much to watch his back. Vash didn't for a second believe that thier friendship was entirely on Knives' orders, Wolfwood had, after all, saved his life from a bullet from Caine the Longshot. _

_**That doesn't matter now**, Vash admonished himself, clearing his thoughts. ?**Regrets won't change anything. I have to figure out for myself how I'm going to save my brother, how I'm going to do it before he has a chance to hurt anyone else. Especially the Girls. If he wakes up..**._

_He'd sense them. He'd sense them and he'd kill them._

_"...do you think of Mister Vash bringing Mister Knives back?" Millies voice sounded softly in the next room. To a normal human's ears they would have been speaking low enough tha the words would be indistinguishable, but Vash wasn't normal so he could hear them fine. He eavesdropped shamelessly._

_There was a soft sigh from Meryl and she paused for a long moment before she said_

_"I'm honestly not certain what to think. I'd love to believe that Vash knows what he's doing and that everything will be just fine from here on in but I'm afraid I'm a pessimist and blind optimism simply isn't in my nature," she replied frankly. "I don't want to pressure him, Vash has enough to worry about; but maybe it would be a wiser idea to take his twin someplace a little safer, at least until we know one way or the other."_

_"Safer Meryl?" Millie questioned. "Like where?"_

_"Good point, there really are no real "safe" places here on Gunsmoke are there?" she said in a dry tone. "Well, maybe someplace far away from everyone; lord knows there's more than enough empty, uninhabited space to go around on this dustball. Maybe we're worrying for nothing; Vash probably already knows his next move. He's a much better person than I am."_

_"Why do you say that Meryl, I think you're a great person!"_

_"Are you kidding me?" Meryl said, her tone reflected the view that she thought her friend was nuts. "How could you have been around me this long and not noticed that my personality is, shall we say, eccentric? I'm proud, short-tempered, stubborn, domineering, too blunt for my own good, prickly, judgmental, obsessive, controlling--"_

_"Hey! Come on now--" Millie tried to protest._

_"Millie, I know my faults," she insisted. "I could change them if I wanted to, probably... but the fact is that I don't want to change; not even for love."_

_"Who say's you have to?" Millie asked softly._

_Meryl made no reply and a moment later the sound of typewriter keys clacking filed the silence._

_**Millie's right, who says she has to change? So what if she's proud, stubborn, judgemental, domineering, prickly and controlling? She doesn't flinch at the worst disaster... of course she wouldn't I guess, being a disaster investigator and all, but still. Anyone who can take my life with any level of equanmity at all is definately worth keeping around.**_

_Even after the unconscious comparisons he'd made between them on That Day, Vash was well aware that Rem and Meryl had little, if anything, in common with one another besides a vague physical resemblance. Meryl was very much her own person with a practical streak that on occasion bordered on heartlessly pragmatic. She was no Saint Rem, even if she had once repeated Rem's philosophy exactly, there was a harsher core to her that he could sense, something made of steel and lightning that wouldn't blink at having to deal with the harsh realities of things; that would do whatever might be necessary to ensure the safety of those she loved._

_It was strange; sometimes when he looked at her he saw the kind wise and caring visage of his mentor and mother-figure, Rem, but most times she was purely and wholly Meryl Stryfe and very much her own person. He'd come to realize that comparing the two women was completely futile. Meryl was earthy, practical, pragmatic, and no kind of philosopher... certainly she was no pacifist. With her firey temper and fierce protectiveness she bore little if any resemblance to the woman who insisted that there was always a way to have it both ways. Meryl seemed to accept that sometimes, there really was no other choice than the lesser of two evils._

_"Sure, do your best to help out and do good where you can," she'd said late one night while they were doing dishes and having some time together. "But don't beat yourself up if things aren't perfect. It's an imperfect universe, you do what you can."_

_That pretty much seemed to sum up Meryl's take on things anyway. Vash still wasn't sure of he was able to agree with that outlook or not; he'd spent so long defending his own way of thinking that accepting the idea that there might come a situation where he couldn't save everyone just felt like giving up._

_S**he's right about one thing though; there really are no "safe" places where Knives is involved**. The faith she expressed in him warmed him a little, even if it was misplaced. _

_**I have no idea what I'm going to do next. No plan, no direction.** _

_Another thing he liked about Meryl; she always seemed to know what she was doing, even if she really didn't. Her practical no-nonsense nature gave her a sort of appearance of confidence that never seemed to waver. That practicality seemed to cut right through all of the strangeness and confusion and get right down to the heart of matters. It was part of what had made him willing to confide in her, and his faith hadn't been misplaced; she'd been sympathetic to what he'd been through, but not afraid or taken aback by the strangeness of his life. She'd simply accepted his story as part of him and gotten on with things. _

_**It's almost like she's some how used to dealing with weirdness,** he thought. For one wild moment he entertained the notion that maybe, like himself, there was a whole lot more to Meryl Stryfe than just a normal insurance girl thrust into an insane situation, but then..._

_**Nah, that's just silly**, he thought, immediately dismissing the notion. Meryl's as prosaic as meatloaf, and about as psychically aware as a rock._

_He should know too, Vash had always been particularly attuned to psychic vibrations; over the years the teeming sea of humanity had formed a sort of background noise that he'd learned to block out but that didn't mean he was completely incapable of using the other part of his abilities; he'd simply chosen not to._

_**And look where that landed me,** he recriminated himself. If he'd just bitten the bullet and learned to use his powers just the same as his brother had, Vash would have been able to end the fight with Legato without having to kill him. Oh he'd tried alright; Vash had made several stumbling first attempts at using his own clumsy psychic abilities to block out Legato's but to no avail. He simply hadn't had the knowledge or the training to combat a fully trained telepath in his own bailiwick. Knives had known that of course, Knives had known that Vash felt that using his powers to control people was wrong on a very basic level; that was why he'd chosen to fight in that manner. The fight had nearly cost him Meryl, who as a normal person had been unable to defend herself against psychic attack and had been completely at Legato's non-existent mercy that day._

_**But that's odd,** he thought, his mind suddenly stumbling across an anomaly about the incident that had eluded his notice before (Vash had not wanted to mentally revisit the tragedy, and there was the fight with his brother to worry about). There had been a moment, very briefly, when Vash had felt something brush, featherlight, on the edge of his mind. He'd assumed that it had been Legato and so had tried to psychically swat it away, but now he wasn't so sure._

_I**'m probably just imagining things,** he told himself._

_In fact, now that he thought about it, the one time he'd ever tried to "listen in" on her thoughts (a moment of weakness out in the sands, before he'd had to leave her) the tiny delicate little probe he'd sent her way had bounced off her like a stone skimming over water. She was not only normal, but abnormally normal. _

_Some people had minds that were so neat and organized that they were nearly impossible to read. The average person's mind was always somewhat "cluttered" with little stray thoughts poking out here and there to flit through the air to no consequence; but some people had minds that were so organized that nothing escaped them. Trying to poke your telepathic nose in them was like sticking your finger in the cogs of a clock; you'd just get pinched between the gears. Meryl seemed to have one of those clockwork minds, opaque but to a very concentrated probe; and that would be just rude._

_**Opaque to "sending" or not, Legato was still able to take control of her, he thought darkly. And whatever his minion was capable of, Knives will be able to do in time as well**._

_Which brought him back to his original quandary... so now what? Keeping him around the girls was just asking for trouble. He really didn't have anyplace else safe to send his brother to heal. He couldn't just lock him in a box and forget about him (tempting as the thought was). And Vash had no real plan for what to do with him if Knives proved uncooperative when he finally did wake up._

_**Those energy blasts were enough to shut him down for at least a month so I have a few weeks grace period, **he thought, closing his eyes and succumbing to exhaustion. **I'm sure I'll think of something.**_

**There it is... if anyone wants to volunteer to beta, that would be great! Any questions, comments or concerns will be cheerfully feilded by me, let me know what you think. Should I put the next part of it in the opening chapter or is it too long already?**


	12. Love Is All There Is

He was kissing her, and it felt wonderful.

She'd been kissed a few times over the course of her lifetime, hidden in the hedges of the garden as a teenager or sometimes in the stale dusty air of an unused room in the offices. Generally she found them to be only mildly interesting but necessary affairs; the kissers generally tasted like mints or toothpaste, carefully groomed with the scent of some expensive cologne or aftershave. The motions of love-play were as structured and orderly to her as a dance; once the initial bow was made and accepted, follow the correct steps, find the right triggers... everything proceeding as expected. It was all about as interesting to her as her latest report (in fact a time or two she'd spent her times in a lovers arms reviewing the wording on her latest report rather than concentrating on the person she was faced with). Meryl simply hadn't seen what all of the fuss was about.

She'd watched as her friends around her had scurried from relationship to relationship, always worrying about whether or not the other person liked them, whether they would stay together, whether they should stay together, trying desperately to find that one ideal person they wanted to be with and she'd never been able to understand any of it. She'd never been swept away before so when people tried to explain to her what passion meant she'd always looked at them with that confused look that a dog gives its owner when they put a strange food in their food dish and the dog is sitting there staring at it uncomprehendingly with his head cocked to one side wondering what the heck he's supposed to do with it. Despite her hot-tempered and volatile nature, Meryl hadn't felt the all-consuming burn of passion in her life so trying to explain it to her as speaking in tongues to her. She'd had no frame of reference.

Oh she'd thought something like this might happen, had even idly hoped for it. She wouldn't have admitted to anyone, not even Milly (who probably knew anyway) but she'd worn the dress for him. She'd gone out of her way to look as attractive to him as possible with the idle thought that maybe he'd pull her aside for a kiss and end this foolish tap-dance going on between the two of them where both of them were afraid to lead and sooner or later someone was going to get a foot stepped on. She hadn't really thought much about what the kiss would be like, she was a sensible woman who didn't hold with mooning about like a schoolgirl with her first crush, so any thought she might have given about what it might be like to kiss Vash was with the mild, detached expectation that it would be something slightly more pleasant than the kisses she'd had before but still... it was only a kiss.

Thus she had not been prepared, and she was caught blindsided by the sheer intensity of feeling and emotion of what should have been nothing more momentous than a simple meeting of lips. She wasn't prepared when conscious thought stalled as fire and lightning raced through her body in a sudden wave, stealing her breath and replacing the air in her lungs with a strange swelling feeling expanding from her heart until it felt too great to hold. She wasn't prepared when her knees turned to water and could no longer hold her up and she was forced to cling to him like the last anchor in a sandstorm as the universe around her flew apart into whirling sensations.

His kiss actually tingled, like a mild current, pins and needles spreading over her lips where his lips touched hers. His scent, dry, soft and slightly spicy, was the air she breathed to live. His arms, both of them strong enough to bend steel, were wrapped gently around her, like he was afraid to break her. His kiss was a gentle pressure, making no demands, sharing rather than taking. But she suddenly needed him more than she needed air to breathe, so Meryl tightened her arms around him a little more and pressed her lips more firmly to him tacitly letting him know that he was free to deepen the kiss.

His arms tightened around her waist and she was abruptly lifted off her feet and pulled against his chest as his mouth opened against hers and tasted her. He tasted like the air heavy with the scent of a storm, like wind and lightning, and his kiss had the same effect on her inner landscape as a sandstorm did on the desert, raising it from its place on the ground to be borne aloft by the wild wind, changing the shape of the dunes forever with its passing.

The kiss ended slowly and reluctantly as he gently set her back on her feet. She couldn't hold herself up, she felt so dizzy afterward and so she leaned against him. She couldn't breathe or think, and apparently neither could he, because all they did in that still silent moment after the kiss ended was stare at each other in speechless wonder, neither able to say anything to break the spell. She wasn't sure who started it, but Vash's face slowly transformed into one of those rare, soft smiling looks, where she could see his gentle soul radiating out from within him and she just knew that her own expression mirrored his. She wouldn't have been able to find one of her walls or defenses right then if her life had depended on it. Fortunately for her right then, it didn't; hidden away safely from prying eyes and gossiping servants she was free to be vulnerable and in love without anyone remarking on it.

She wasn't sure which of them initiated the kiss that followed, her eyes had sort of drifted shut as she gave herself over to the feeling of his arms around her holding her securely in his embrace and the wondrous sensations that filled her entire being when he kissed her. When he pulled her closer one of his hands remained wrapped around the small of her back (right where the damned corset dug in tightly) and the other traveled up her back, past the edge of the corset to cradle her head at the nape of her neck controlling the pressure of the kiss but also supporting her head, his fingers tangled in her hair sending small shivers down her spine even as he worked the soft flesh of her lips tenderly with his own. Meryl sighed wordlessly and relaxed completely, surrendering herself to the moment and allowing herself to just feel.

What felt like eternity and only an instant later at the same time, Vash pulled away from the kiss. Gratifyingly enough he seemed just as breathless and out of sorts as she felt.

"That was.. um..." he said, apparently feeling the need to try to articulate something that could only be felt.

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice coming out in a dreamy sigh instead of her more normal firm tones. She just stayed there in his arms, not willing to move anywhere else, just in case he should decide that he wanted another kiss. He seemed content just hold her, for the moment anyway.

There was another long pause then he said

"I should have done this a long time ago." His tone was considered and decisive.

"Well..." Meryl said, injecting a little coyness in her voice, no point in _not_ encouraging him now. "You could... you could always make up for lost time."

"Sounds like a good idea," he said huskily, leaning down for another kiss.

It was just as wonderful as the first two kisses, even as his arms tightened around her waist and pulled her against him, making the damned corset dig into her skin. The dragon-lady must have been a closet sadist, for she laced the thing up so tight that Meryl couldn't breathe... of course, maybe she couldn't entirely blame that problem on the corset either, she realized as a soft noise of enjoyment escaped her throat when he ran a hand down her bare arm and around her back. She could feel him smile against her mouth at the noise. But she wasn't expecting the sudden movement when she found her legs pulled out from under her and scooped into his arms, all without breaking the kiss. She realized _why_ a second later; he was quite a bit taller than she was and he had to stoop over quite a bit to kiss her, so it was natural that he'd get a crick in his neck after a little while.

Vash carried her over to a pile of foam polymer mats and plas-fabric blankets that she'd found in a storage bin long ago (some old SEEDs ship surplus that her family had packed away in an attic) that she'd appropriated for herself because the material never got old or musty. She'd liked to sneak down to the cool hidden rooms underground for a siesta in the hot afternoons when she'd been a child. Vash sat down on the pile of them with his back braced against the wall and settled her sideways across his lap. He resumed the kiss with renewed interest and things probably would have been perfect, if it weren't for the damned metal herringbones of the corset poking into her flesh and constricting around her ribs. She squirmed a bit, trying to loosen the thing.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sounding dazed and a little worried.

"Damned corset's digging into me," she muttered, trying in vain to reach around the back and loosen it just a little so she could breathe better. Her wish was apparently his command, for a fraction of a second later the buttons on one side were undone and the cursed thing exploded outward as she sighed with relief.

"Better?" he questioned, his lips feather light against hers. Her answer was a noise of agreement as the tiny gap closed between them. Meryl tried not to smile in either mischief or delight as his prosthetic hand started working its way up her voluminous skirt, while the other one contented itself to trace circles in the exposed skin of her back. It was a little unfair that he still had all of his clothes on; true, she was _mostly_ still dressed, but her clothes were easier to work around. That jacket had to go. Meryl, while not as quick as Vash was, still had the front buttons undone in reasonably short order and she pushed it off him. There was a small struggle as Vash had to quit touching her (something he was loath to do) for a moment in order to get his arms out of the sleeves but a few moments later, as she whipped the black bow-tie off him and tossed it somewhere, they were both a lot more comfortable.

His hand resumed its place at her knee, and started slowly working its way up her thigh while the other hand crept down her lower back now that her waist wasn't locked away inside the prison of the corset. Abruptly he stopped, jerking away in shock as both of his hands found foreign objects simultaneously.

"No wonder they call you Derringer Meryl," he said a moment later, laughing as he pulled a derringer out of a thigh holster on her garter and another from a waist holster in the small of her back, just under where her skirt belled out.

"I never go anywhere unarmed," she informed him, trying to keep a straight face as he playfully started patting her down for more weapons. Some areas he searched more thoroughly than others. He quickly found the other one located on the other thigh.

"Am I going to have to strip search you?" he teased after he'd pulled it out.

"Said the pot to the kettle," Meryl replied archly as she pulled his own handgun from the small of his back. It was significantly larger than hers of course, but he had bigger hands.

"But that's only one," he argued. "You've got three on you."

"Shows what you know," Meryl smiled up at him impishly, just daring him with her expression to see if three was all she really had on her.

"Sounds like I _am_ going to have to strip search you," he murmured. There was an edge of huskiness to his voice that belied the playfulness of his tone.

It didn't feel much like a search when one hand started working its way around to the front of the corset from the open side and the other caressed its way up her thigh. She wasn't complaining though, she sighed in delight as she threaded her fingers in his hair again, her body automatically arching into his caresses. His lips detached from hers as he dotted kisses up to the tiny hollow in her neck just underneath her ear. Meryl wasn't aware she had made any noise, so drunk on the sensations tingling through her body, until she felt his chuckle rumble through her where their bodies were pressed together.

"Sounds like I'm not the only one having fun," he murmured into her ear, breath hot on her skin. He began working his delightful way down her neck making her skin shiver and pucker up in response. She made a noise of agreement as her fingers slid down his broad, muscled chest to try undoing the buttons of his shirt. He caught them gently at the wrists and pulled them away from their mission but before she could ask him why he'd stopped her her thoughts flew abruptly away as the hand that was working its way inside her corset found the sensitized flesh of her right breast and squeezed. Her whole body seized up in surprised pleasure, and she definitely heard the noise she made into the silence of their room. It was a good thing they were underground, someone definitely would have heard otherwise, but even so she tried to modulate her tone.

He didn't appear to care for her attempts to silence herself for he pinched the over-sensitive nub of flesh on her breast, causing her to gasp in surprise and pleasure as an unexpected jolt of need lanced down at her core. The hand that had been caressing at her thigh apparently found what it was really after for the buttons fastening closed the waist came undone in a split second, when Vash made a small, pleased noise of triumph. The dress hung loosely off her, held up mostly by the simple fact that their bodies being pressed together pinned the fabric in place. Vash lifted her up a bit and began to tug it down.

"Wait," Meryl whispered. He froze immediately.

Meryl again reached for the buttons on his shirt. It was absolutely not fair that she was nearly down to her underthings while the only thing she'd managed to remove from him was his jacket and tie. Vash stopped her again from taking off his clothes. Meryl looked at him questioningly, refusing to be sidetracked this time even as his lips did something to the skin at the join between her shoulder and her neck that pulled white hot lava from her blood. She firmly detached him (her body not at all pleased with the decision) and looked him in the eyes.

"Why are you stopping me?" she asked him. "Surely you have to know that this can't be done with your clothes on?"

Vash's face flushed a little and he looked a bit embarrassed, which was sort of odd considering what they'd been up to up until that moment.

"It's not something that I like people to look at," he said. Meryl felt a flash of deja vu and understood what his problem was; he was a little self-conscious about his body because he was so badly scarred.

"I'm not people," she assured him. "I'm Meryl, and I've seen it once or twice before."

She smiled, trying for a bit of levity.

"I'm sorry, you're just going to have to find something else to add shock value to my life."

His smile, bright and beautiful, could have easily lit up the darkness.

"Now move your hands so I can get that shirt off," she commanded.

"Yes Ma'am," he grinned, attacking her lips with a definite sense of joy while Meryl discovered that she was suddenly all thumbs as Vash found fun new ways to distract her. One hand was tracing down her calf and over the pad of one foot with a feather light touch while the other hand made soft, lazy circles over one shoulder and back around to the back of her neck to ruffle the short hairs at the base of her head. She got the sense that he was not really trying to stop her, he just liked seeing how flustered he could make her while she tried to get something done. Every time she looked back up at him he just grinned innocently at her with an expression of "no no, go ahead, keep going, I'm not stopping you".

"You imp, you're doing that on purpose," she accused as she tried for the fourth time to get the third button through the damned button hole. She was just about ready to admit defeat and rip it off him.

"Well yeah," he said, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Are you going to rip it off me?"

Well now that he'd asked her to, no.

She was not about to admit defeat to the cloth or to him so she made a small hmph-ing noise and forced her hands to steady. She smiled in satisfaction as she managed to get the rest undone, the smile quickly faded to seriousness as she surveyed what he generally went to great lengths to keep hidden. It was nothing she hadn't seen before. As the senior partner and the one with the most field training in first aid, it had been Meryl that had bandaged him up before he'd went to fight his brother. Seeing it again reminded her a little of that time.

Meryl remembered looking at them in a sort of hypnotized, faintly horrified, fascination. She recalled trying to wrap her mind around the idea of just what all of those wounds meant. How many times had he been in danger? How often had he been trapped, betrayed, shot at and hurt? How many times had he willfully thrown himself into the path of danger just to save someone else? It had been that moment, when she'd been faced with that realization, that Meryl had acknowledged to herself that she couldn't run away from how she felt about him anymore.

The playful mood which had seemed to characterize their love-play until that moment evaporated, quickly replaced by a subtle tension. It had the feeling of the two of them being balanced by a very thin thread, the slightest movement one way or another could make it snap.

"So..." he said, clearly very anxious. "If you don't want to, I... I understand."

His tone was one of weary defeat, as though he'd expected that all along, and Meryl felt a momentary flash of irritation at him that he thought she was so weak. It was replaced again by tenderness at the look of longing and dutiful resignation on his face. He would never force her into doing something she didn't want to, even when he clearly very much did.

Meryl cupped the side of his face tenderly with one hand and looked at him, her heart felt like it was swelling inside her chest and she was surprised to find her throat tightening just a little. She couldn't find the words to say what she wanted to... she wasn't really good with them anyway. Instead she slid her other hand up over the rough, scarred flesh of his chest, lingering slightly over some of the worst of them to trace them with a fingertip as she hadn't dared to when she'd been bandaging him for fear of waking him up, and leaned up to kiss him firmly again, communicating wordlessly that this was indeed what she wanted.

He couldn't seem to believe it at first but then he slowly returned her gesture. The casual playfulness was gone and the soft exploring touches and gentle kisses had turned to something more serious. Before that moment, there had been the feeling that either one could break it off at any time and there'd be no hard feelings on either side, but now they had reached the point where it wasn't about having fun or curiosity. They'd reached the point of no return.

A desperate tenderness made his arms tighten around her until it was just shy of being painful and he leaned forward and rested his weight on her bare shoulders. Meryl was more than happy to hold him up, and wrapped her arms around him in an embrace that mirrored his. There was a soft intimacy to the moment, a feeling of being bound, and freed at the same time. It felt, good, right being so near him, loving him and supporting him. Meryl felt that there wasn't likely to be a better time than this to say what was in her heart.

"Meryl," he said softly into the enclosing darkness, just as she took a breath to tell him how she felt.

"Yes?" she asked, running a hand through his hair. She suppressed a minor twinge of jealousy and the thought that his hair was so thick and soft while hers was baby fine.

"Knives keeps reminding me that we're really very different," he said softly. "And I know that's true. I will outlive you. You'll grow old and die while I continue on, I've watched it before with all of my friends. I'll tell you something I've never told anyone before..."

"What's that?" she asked, nervous now that he was leading up to pushing her away again.

"I used to hate them for it, a little bit," he confessed.

"Hate them for what? Dying?" Meryl asked gently, her tone not condemning him for the way he felt.

"Living, I guess," he said softly. "I was always watching from the outside, you see. They'd all get to find people they loved, and live with them, have children with them and grow old with them and I... I didn't. That's what it means to live outside of time, it means you always get to look and want, but never have."

"Oh, Vash," she murmured, holding him tighter, as if, if she held him hard enough she could hold back time itself and keep him from the pain of loss forever.

"But there is something else," he said. "Even though her time was short and I outlived her, I never regretted having Rem in my life. I missed her, yes, but I never regretted her being there. I think with you, the only thing I'd regret is if I never got the chance to be with you while I could."

"For as long as we have, for as long as you want me..." Meryl said softly, hesitantly. "I'm yours."

Still, Vash being Vash...

"Meryl, You don't have to... You can still-"

She cut him off with a finger athwart his lips.

"You're a sweetheart, and your mama raised you right," she informed him. "But shut up and kiss me."

"Yes ma'am," he murmured, smiling against her lips as he willingly complied.

X X X X X

_**I know, I know, awful place to leave off isn't it? But if I were to write anything more I'd have to write a full-fledged lemon, and the good old FFN won't let us post those without certain repercussions, and being as they're hidden away in a secret room underground where no-one can hear or find them I couldn't think of a way to interrupt the affair. So... I'll just have to leave the rest to your imagination. Or, if anyone wants to prevail on me, I guess I could possibly write out the rest and post it at media miner, leave a note for me if that's the case and I'll put the rest of it there.**_

_**Sorry it took me so long to post this up, I've been sucked into the Final Fantasy void again... it's eight this time. I've never actually played eight before; I've watched others play eight, but this is my fist time playing it and I love it. Going to go play it right now as a matter of fact, after I finish posting this. I hope you enjoyed the chapter... took them long enough didn't it? Sheesh, I've seen glaciers that move faster than those two.**_


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